


The Webs We Weave

by deadptarmigan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-19 14:12:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 82,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15511602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadptarmigan/pseuds/deadptarmigan
Summary: Alternate Universe. Dumbledore's death in the middle of Harry's sixth year at school had serious consequences.





	1. Prologue

PART ONE PROLOGUE

Percy Weasley came into his childhood home like a thief in the night.

It was simpler than he had anticipated. The wards were brushed gently aside with a twist of his wand. They had been constructed to keep out the Muggles, the Death Eaters, and Voldemort himself. But they were mere wisps when it came to family. Tears sparked in his eyes. If only he could find a way to warn them. If only he could speak to them. But surely they must hate him.

Percy, who had always prided himself on Doing the Right Thing, had made a mare's nest out of his life. He took a moment on the back stoop of the Burrow to kick himself for choosing the Ministry, for turning his back on his family. It had seemed so  _right_  at the time. Of course the Ministry was right to doubt Harry's wild story about Death Eaters in a graveyard. The thought was ludicrous!

"Except it wasn't," Percy breathed. It wasn't ludicrous. But the Ministry kept digging its heels in deeper and deeper, and even when Voldemort was unveiled in the Ministry's own atrium, it still kept trying to spin the propaganda. And Percy was very much afraid that the Ministry was losing control. Its judgments and edicts were getting darker… Percy rather feared that the enemy had already won.

Percy slipped in through the back door. The object he was looking for was exactly where he knew it would be: hanging on the wall, its many hands pointing every which way. It was not a regular clock, of course, but the Weasley family clock. Every member of the family – and as Percy looked closer, he saw Fleur, Hermione, and Harry had been added as well – had their own hand, and it pointed at wherever they were.

Most, Percy noted grimly, were pointed at Mortal Peril.

His own pointed Home.

"Percy," his mother whispered.

Percy whirled around, wand in hand, utter shock pulsing through his veins. There she was. His mother. Standing in a tatty nightgown, her wand shivering with light, illuminating her still-bright hair. She looked beautiful.

"Mother! What are you doing awake?" He hissed.

"You think I wouldn't know the second you came home?" Molly asked simply. She pointed at the clock that was now in Percy's hands.

"Mother, I'm  _sorry_ ," Percy said, anguished.

His mother never answered. He had already sent her to sleep, catching her on a cushion of air before she could hit the floor. Percy picked her up and carried her into the living room. He laid her gently on the couch, eased her head onto a pillow, brushed the hair out of her face, and held his wand at her temple.

He obliviated her. He took her memory of seeing him. He took her memory of the famous – much too famous – Weasley clock. And then Percy set up a ward of his own, that everyone who crossed the threshold of the Burrow would forget all about that wonderful, enchanted clock.

And then he left.


	2. In the Beginning

**In the Beginning**

20 April 1997 - 21 April 1997

_Dumbledore is dead._

Harry awoke from his latest nightmare with that thought clanging through his head. It had been three days since the headmaster's death, and the truth of it just got worse. Harry lay in his twisted sheets, heart racing, and the backs of his eyes stinging so fiercely, he thought he might have been hexed. Neville's snores seemed loud and jarring, and the air in the dorm was stifling and hot. It smothered Harry; he wanted to open a window, but it was still April and cold.

He got out of bed and, not even bothering with his dressing gown, stepped into his slippers and pulled open the door. Blindly, he went down the stairs, and it wasn't until he was already halfway across the common room when he realized he wasn't alone. It was three in the morning, but a fire burned merrily in the hearth, and he could see someone's legs stretched out toward the fire. Harry could immediately tell that the fellow insomniac was a girl. He spared a brief moment to beg Merlin that it wasn't Lavender Brown, or Romilda Vane, or some other silly girl-

"Harry?" Ginny asked, peering around the side of the armchair.

"Ginny," he said, immensely relieved.

Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour, or the fact that Harry felt particularly raw, but he was absurdly happy that it was Ginny. She was an excellent listener, really. And she wouldn't push him into talking more than he wanted to. But as soon as he thought it, his mind retreated. "You're up late," he said unnecessarily.

She slowly uncurled from the armchair, and stood up, looking at him uncertainly.

"Did you have a nightmare?" she asked.

"Yes," he said quickly, surprising himself. He'd fully intended on lying, but he just couldn't. Shrugging, he tried to pass it off as no big deal. "I mean - you know, just the normal..." he said, failing at trying to sound casual.

Ginny wasn't a fool, though. Her face registered her skepticism, and highlighted the truth that she didn't believe him. He thought of all the times she'd never let him get away with anything, and his chest tightened.

_Escape now!_

But she was coming closer, and Harry was rooted to the spot. Her brow was furrowed. "Harry, I can't even imagine - I know you and Dumbledore were close," she said. "I don't know how you're feeling-"

"I'm scared," he blurted out, to his own horror.  _Why did I have to say that? Why?_  "Dumbledore, he was supposed to tell me more," he continued, despite his disgust with himself. "He was supposed to help me, and prop me up and tell me exactly what to do."

Instead of laughing at him or being disappointed in him, however, she sucked in a breath, and then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Harry meant to pull away, but somehow his arms went around her until one hand was on her back, and the other in her hair. "He was supposed to be there at the end," he said. It just seemed intensely wrong that Dumbledore would not see how it finished.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered against his chest.

The next day they buried Albus Dumbledore. It was cold and grey, more like winter than April, and Harry was still in a state of complete disbelief. How could  _Draco Malfoy_ have possibly killed Dumbledore? How had the greatest wizard of theage been defeated by a bottle of oak-matured mead? The  _way_  Dumbledore had died seemed just as wrong as the death itself. Harry felt anger and grief, of course, but those emotions were tempered by confusion.

Harry was jerked out of his thoughts when an eerie sound filled his ears. Ron, beside him, startled just as violently, and Hermione took a deep breath. The wailing and keening song sounded as though it came from the lake, and it rippled through the air, and the brisk wind felt even colder.  _Merfolk,_  he thought distantly. His eyes caught Ginny's. She sat behind him next to her boyfriend, Dean Thomas.

Not even twelve hours ago, when everyone else had been asleep, he had woken from a nightmare and wandered into the common room, only to find that she'd done the same thing. And after a short conversation - Harry couldn't even remember what had been said - she'd hugged him. Just wrapped her arms around him the way her mother had after he'd come away from the maze in his fourth year. Except with Ginny, he'd actually been able to cry, because it had been just the two of them. Much to his own surprise, he didn't even feel self-conscious about it. And when she'd started to cry, too, Harry hadn't wanted to pull away from her as he had with Cho, but had wanted to pull her closer.

"-a long, full life," the tufty-haired wizard who presided over the funeral said. "He was considered by many to be the greatest wizard in living memory, with an unshakeable alliance to truth and-"

Harry tore his eyes away from Ginny, and instead focused his thoughts on the impossible task ahead of him. Voldemort and his Horcruxes...

An elbow jabbed his ribs, and Harry looked up, shocked to see that the funeral had ended and the guests were filing away, solemnly.  _I didn't even pay attention to_   _Dumbledore's funeral,_ he thought dazedly. He felt the absurd urge to laugh, butsomething heavy pressed down on his chest, and he couldn't.  _I can't do this alone,_  Harry thought for what felt like the hundredth time since speaking to Professor Slughorn.

He had to speak to Dumbledore's portrait, and that meant talking to McGonagall. And if he had to speak to McGonagall, and tell her the secrets Dumbledore had told him, he might as well tell those members of the Order of the Phoenix he could trust. All of the Weasleys... Mad-Eye... Remus and Tonks... Kingsley... even Dedalus Diggle. They could help. Harry glanced over at Ron and Hermione; they looked as anxious as he felt, and he was forcibly reminded that they were all young teenagers, and Dumbledore had left them alone with what felt like the weight of the world.

"I'm going to tell them," Harry said quietly, after checking to make sure that no one was listening.

"About the-" Ron began.

Harry interrupted him. "Yes. About the Horcruxes. We can't do this alone," Harry added, when Hermione looked as though she wanted to argue. "We have no idea where they are, what they are, or how to destroy them," he said firmly, scanning the crowd for the people he trusted most. "When Dumbledore told me - I'm sure he didn't know he was going to - he couldn't have expected us to do this alone."

"All right, mate," Ron said quietly.

"When do you want to tell them?" Hermione asked.

Harry sought Ginny out one more time. She stood off by herself - no Dean in sight

gazing out over the water. For an instant, he indulged himself in thinking that he could turn this task over to the adults and let them worry about it. He could stay here at Hogwarts, attend his classes, be a normal sixteen year old-

But he couldn't linger over that fantasy for very long. "Now," he said.

02 June 1997

**NEW MINISTER OF MAGIC**

Ben Linus

_After a year of political turmoil under the unsteady hand of ex-Auror Rufus Scrimgeour, the Ministry of Magic has another new leader at the helm of Britain's Wizarding community. Pius Thicknesse, former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (see "Pius Thicknesse: A Life in Pictures, page 3), has stepped in after Scrimgeour tendered his resignation late last night. The decision to elect him was unanimous. "Sure, everyone thought he was the best man for the job," says Agatha Higgenbothem, who cast her vote with the rest of the Wizengamot._

In a radical move, he completely eliminated the Auror Department (see "Corruption in the Auror Department, page 4), replacing it with a select few called Enforcers, of which John Dawlish is now the Head. "I regret to say that the Auror Department had gotten so corrupt that it must be eliminated," says Thicknesse in his first interview as Minister of Magic. "A total rework is required." He promises many more changes ahead, including the release of what he calls "terrifying information" from the Department of Mysteries regarding Muggleborns.

Scrimgeour was unavailable for comment regarding his abrupt resignation. It is believed that he has fled the country.

28 July 1997

Ginny had just about had it with her mother.

"If you could tie the napkins, dear, and then I need you to pull the laundry-"

 _Honestly, the woman cares more about the wedding than the fact that Ron, Harry, and Hermione are being hunted down by the Ministry of Magic,_ Ginny thought scornfully. The kitchen at the Burrow was bright and cheery, but Ginny felt anything but. Unfortunately, everyone else around her seemed to think it of no consequence, that the war had truly begun. Her dad was being watched, the members of the Order of the Phoenix had to regulate their activities, and some, like Remus and Tonks, had had to go into hiding.

"And after that, you have to go to my room, I have everything out for you, you just need to-"

 _That's not true,_ Ginny amended, trying to be fair. They were trying to keep it fromher. Last night, after a horrific dream involving Voldemort (she'd been back in the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry had been trying to fight the basilisk, but rivers of blood were coming out of his scar, and she couldn't even help - she'd been completely unable to move), she'd come down for tea, only to hear her mother sobbing quietly.

"And if you-"

" _Mum!_ " Ginny said exasperatedly. "You don't need to pretend everything's all right."

"What?" her mother said stiffly. She had her back to Ginny, and was busy waving her wand and getting the kitchen into order while preparing lunch. "I just need your help with-"

"You're really this involved in the wedding?" Ginny asked in disbelief. "You can't  _lie_ to me, Mum. I know that you have a thousand more important things to thinkabout-"

"My oldest son is getting married, that's very important," her mum said, still not looking at her.

"Yes, of course, it would be if we weren't at war," Ginny said. Her stomach tightened with anger. She couldn't believe that her mother was going to pretend like it didn't matter, like a wedding was equal to everyone Ginny loved being in mortal danger. It reminded her of why she'd broken up with Dean Thomas, who had no understanding (even though he was probably a Muggleborn) of what it meant that Dumbledore had died. Dean had only had a mind for what it meant for their relationship, and not what it meant for everyone else.

"The wedding is even more important because of the war."

Ginny felt like her eyes were about to pop out of her head. Her mother obviously thought she was too young, too inexperienced to handle the truth; she wouldn't even confide in Ginny her worries, just tried to pretend that everything was fine, that she wasn't going out of her mind with fear for her family's safety. "That's stupid," Ginny muttered.

No reply.

"I wish you wouldn't lie to me," Ginny said in a low, angry voice. "Do you think I'm five years old? Or stupid? Everyone's in danger and you won't even acknowledge it. I fought at the Ministry of Magic, you know, it's not like I'm clueless. And I'll be joining the Order when I'm-"

" _You will not be joining the Order,_ " her mum hissed, spinning around, face scarlet, and eyes blazing.

Ginny took a step backward, gaping. The fury and fear on her mother's face was stark. "Of course I'm going to join the Order," Ginny said. How could her mother not know this? Ever since her fourth year, when they had spent the summer at Grimmauld Place, she'd planned to join as soon as she'd turned seventeen. It was  _obvious_. Ginny wouldn't, couldn't just watch her family go out and fight while shesat at home.

_Like hell._

"You're mental," she told her mother flatly, bracing herself for a fight.

Molly's eyes went wide, and her hands went to her hips. "Do not speak to me that way, Ginny. Do  _not_. I am prepared…" she faltered. "I am  _fully_  knowledgeable that this war – this horrible war – could end in tragedy for this family. For  _my_  family. I would lay down my life to end this evil. But I will not lay down  _yours_."

Ginny's heart squeezed. Her angry words, just at the tip of her tongue, burned away.

"I can't do this if I don't know you're safe," Molly whispered.

Ginny reached out and hugged her mother. "None of us are safe," Ginny whispered back.

03 August 1997

Harry stared up at Grimmauld Place, grimacing. Beside him, Ron muttered inarticulately. Even Hermione, who generally tried to put a good face on things, looked slightly squeamish. It was not the first time since they had left school that they had returned to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Not by a long shot.

But every time they returned, it got a little more difficult to get inside.

"He's mental," Ron said crossly.

"I'm not looking forward to the Probity Probe," Harry admitted.

Mad-Eye Moody had reached new heights of paranoia in the last few months, ever since Harry had told the members of the Order of the Phoenix about the Horcruxes. Obsessed with security, the old Auror had implemented more and more measures to ensure that a situation like that of Pettigrew did not arise. These measures grew more intrusive with every visit.

His gaze fixed on the towering townhouse, which seemed to rise out of the unnatural mist, looking haunted and dark, Harry said, "Let's just do it. It can't be that much worse than last time."

Ten minutes later, Harry stepped out of the foyer - after being subjected to several things that had made him squirm with discomfort ( _At least no one saw,_  Harry told himself firmly, glad that Mad-Eye still allowed a small amount of privacy)

glumly relieved that it was over. So caught up in his thoughts was he that he did not notice the pudgy boy directly in his path until he knocked into him and almost toppled over.

"Neville!" he said loudly, all thoughts of the Probity Probe flying out of his mind. He pumped the other boy's hand vigorously. "What're you doing here?"

"Turned seventeen, didn't I?" Neville said proudly. "I was waiting - you know how they are about not letting any underage people into the Order."

Harry nodded.  _That_  was certainly true. Mrs. Weasley was particularly fanatic about it. Even though he hadn't seen Ginny since the day of Dumbledore's funeral (it was too dangerous to visit the Burrow, especially since Voldemort had taken over the Ministry of Magic, and only Order members were allowed at Grimmauld Place), the fights the two Weasley women had gotten into about this exact issue were legendary.

At least according to Fred and George.

"Are you going to go back to school?" Harry asked.

Neville nodded. "Mad-Eye reckons that he needs a few people at Hogwarts, not just professors like Snape, McGonagall, and Hagrid," he said. "Seamus is going to join too. He turns seventeen tomorrow. And some of the girls are... Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones from Hufflepuff," he added. Then he rattled off a list of most members of Dumbledore's Army who had already joined, or were planning to.

"All of them?" Harry asked uncertainly, widening his eyes, just as Ron stumped into the room, rubbing his backside, and looking disgruntled.

"Yeah," Neville said. "Don't sound so surprised, Harry. We want to be rid of You-Know-Who, too."

08 September 1997

**BREAK-IN AT ST. MUNGO'S**

William Mapother

_The lull in violence that lasted from April to September was shattered late last night when St. Mungo's was almost raided. Mundungus Fletcher (see "The Many Crimes of Dung," page 5) was caught in the act. It is believed that he was acting on behalf of the terrorist organization, the Order of the Phoenix. Although the sneak thief was not a confirmed member, it is widely known that he was friendly with Albus Dumbledore._

It is fortunate that he was stopped before he could either steal potions belonging to law-abiding, pureblooded witches and wizards, though this was not the only danger. The Order of the Phoenix, known to be violently against the Ministry of Magic and supportive of Undesirable Number One, could have made use of some of the heavily regulated poisons contained therein. "Either way, it would have been awful if that group of criminals had gotten our potions," says mediwitch Amity Harrow. "They would have stolen from us in order to heal themselves after they've been fighting."

This was the first use of the new wards (see "How the Ministry of Magic is Protecting Us," page 8) circling Britain's largest hospital for magical maladies and injuries. "We want to protect that which should not fall into the hands of terrorist groups," says Augustus Rookwood. "Therefore, St. Mungo's is now more heavily protected than even the Ministry of Magic, with multiple wards surrounding it."

The most effective ward, which acts as a web, was what caught the thief. While his fate is unknown, he will not be stealing from purebloods on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix ever again. Thanks to the protective measures taken by the Ministry, it is unlikely that St. Mungo's will ever be subjected to thievery again.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

17 November 1997

The sitting room at Grimmauld Place had become a war room, and there was a thick, heady excitement in the air. Two objects floated in midair over a long, rickety table that was just barely large enough to fit all the members of the Order of the Phoenix who had come to witness the destruction of another Horcrux. The old ring that had once belonged to the Peverell family whirled slowly, revolving around the diary.

 _Soon another one will be up there,_ Harry thought, satisfied. _Very soon. Tonight._

With the help of Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore's portrait, Bill and Fleur Weasley had finally found the location of a cave in which they believed Voldemort had placed one of his Horcruxes. Just two days before, the married couple had burst into Grimmauld Place, exclaiming that they'd found a cave that had seen magic. They hadn't entered it, of course, but this was the best lead they'd had for any of the Horcruxes.

"That doesn't solve the problem that we don't know what we're getting into," Mad-Eye said implacably. But Harry saw that he was nearly as excited as the rest of them, and his lips were twisted into a small smile. "Bill said that the wards were complex... only one wizard - or witch," he added when he saw Hermione about to protest, "can enter. But I dislike the idea of sending anyone alone, you know that."

"One wizard or witch that's  _of age_ ," Bill clarified. "We could-"

" _Absolutely not_ ," Molly Weasley said tightly. "No children are going anywhere near that cave, and if you think I'm going to let you-"

"You should let Ginny go, Mum," Fred said. He pointed up at the diary. "She has as much a right as any of us-"

"Not another word," Mrs. Weasley said, slamming her fist down on the table. "She's sixteen years old, and she's in enough danger as it is with those damn Carrows. We do  _not_  use children."

"Why not use a house-elf?" Harry asked. There was a sharp pain in his knee: Hermione had kicked him under the table. His eyes watered and he immediately regretted his words. Until he looked up, that is. Hermione appeared to be the only one who did not like this notion.

"That's an idea," Mad-Eye said gruffly.

"We can use Kreacher," Harry told him, not wanting to think too closely as to why he'd rather use Kreacher than Dobby. And without waiting for an answer, he said loudly, "KREACHER!"

The house-elf appeared with a loud  _crack!_  and a baleful glance at Harry. "Yes, Master?" he croaked, skulking closer. Harry grimaced. "Kreacher, I'm ordering you to never speak of what happens tonight to anyone outside of this room," he ordered.

"Is that really-" Hermione began.

"Yes, it's necessary," Harry cut her off, thinking of Kreacher's involvement in Sirius' death. Everyone else in the room was entirely silent. Even the twins had stopped fidgeting and had their eyes fixed on bat-eared house-elf.

"Yes, Master," Kreacher said finally.

Now that Kreacher had acknowledged Harry's order, Harry did not know quite what to do. None of the more adult members of the Order of the Phoenix offered to take over; even Moody seemed content to let Harry take the lead in this matter. Harry cast a glance around the table; the firelight flickered strangely across their faces. Moody sat in silence, staring thoughtfully at Kreacher, but it seemed like his mind was a hundred miles away. Bill's scars stood out starkly, and a sudden nervousness washed over Harry.

 _They trust me too much,_ Harry thought for the thousandth time. Taking a deepbreath, he said, "Kreacher, we need you to... You-Know-Who has an object that we've got to retrieve," he said carefully. Despite the fact that he knew that Kreacher would not be able to tell others about this, Harry did not want to give the house-elf too much information. "It's in a cave"-Kreacher's eyes bulged at this-"and we need you to help us get it, because it takes two to do it"-the house-elf's mouth dropped open, revealing teeth that had probably not been cleaned in several decades-"but one of them can't be a fully grown witch or wizard."

Harry was completely unprepared for what came next.

Kreacher let out a wail so loud that Harry's ears hurt. Ron knocked over his glass of pumpkin juice, and Hermione almost fell out of her chair. Moody's misshapen mouth hung open, and his full attention was now centered on the house-elf. Mrs. Weasley put her hand over her mouth just as Kreacher ran over to the wall and began to beat his head against it, incomprehensible croaks coming out of his mouth.

"What the bloody, buggering  _hell_?" Ron said loudly.

"Kreacher, stop!" Harry said.

"The locket!" Kreacher sobbed. "Master is wanting the locket... Master Regulus' locket... in the cave! And Kreacher tried and  _tried_  to destroy it!" He flung himself down on the ground, and beat his little fists against the hard floor. Harry's mind reeled with shock.

"Regulus' locket?" Remus Lupin asked in disbelief, speaking up for the first time that evening. "Sirius' brother?"

"Kreacher doesn't have to speak to  _werewolves_ ," Kreacher said, lifting his head from the floor, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Be polite," Harry snapped. But his rebuke was only half-hearted. What did Regulus Black have to do with anything? His confusion grew by the second. Regulus had been a Death Eater, hadn't he? That's what Sirius had said... "Tell me everything you know about the locket, Kreacher," Harry told him.

Kreacher's voice was muffled by the floor, but bit by bit, the story came out. Regulus hadn't just gotten cold feet as Sirius had described. But somehow he'd divined the truth about the Horcruxes. Not only that, but he'd volunteered Kreacher to help hide it. And when Voldemort had tried to kill Kreacher, Regulus' loyalty to Voldemort had broken... and the Horcrux-

"What happened to it?" Harry asked eagerly, looking around the room as though Slytherin's locket would appear in front of him. It felt close, so tantalizingly close-

"That sneak thief Mundungus Fletcher stole it from Kreacher," Kreacher moaned.

His eyes were filled with loathing.

And despite the fact that Harry didn't like to think ill of a deceased member of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry couldn't blame him. In this instance, they were in accord. Dung would have sold it... they had no possible way of knowing who had the locket, where it was, whose mind was possibly being taken over by the Horcrux...

" _Fuck_ ," said Fred.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

25 March 1998

**LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY**

**I.**

We, Fred and George Weasley, residing in London, being reasonably sound of mind, do hereby declare this instrument to be our last will and testament

**II.**

We hereby revoke all previous wills and codicils.

**III.**

We direct that the disposition of our remains be as follows:

Our remains (if we haven't blown ourselves up, of course) are to be placed in the cemetery at Ottery St. Catchpole.

We give half of the contents of our Gringotts vault to our brother, Ronald Bilius Weasley, should he survive us for 60 days (he'd better). We give the other half of the contents of our Gringotts vault to our sister, Ginevra Molly Weasley. If our brother, Ronald Bilius Weasley, does not survive us, we give all of the contents to Ginevra Molly Weasley. If neither Ronald Bilius Weasley nor Ginevra Molly Weasley, survives us, we give all of the contents of the Gringotts vault to Arthur Weasley, to distribute it fairly amongst all surviving members of our immediate family. To Percy Ignatius Weasley and Lee Jordan, we leave Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, to be shared equally. To Tom Marvolo Riddle, we leave all of our stock of U-No-Poo in hopes that our deaths will help create a more peaceful world.

**V.**

We appoint Arthur Weasley, to act as the executor of this will, to serve without bond. Should Arthur Weasley be unable or unwilling to serve, then we appoint William Arthur Weasley to act as the executor of this will.

We herewith affix our signatures to this will on this

the 12th day of December, 1997

Arthur Weasley's eyes kept being drawn again and again to the simple piece of paper that he held in his right hand. His glasses dug into his nose - he kept pressing his hand to his eyes, forgetting the obstruction - and his gaze drifted to the page. Molly's sobs, coming from the other room, were strangely muffled. Specific words jumped out at him:  _last will and testament, disposition of our remains,_  and  _executor._

It hurt to look at the rather official looking parchment. The goblins had stamped it, affixed any number of magical signatures, and had finally given it into Arthur's keeping.

Because Arthur was the executor.

_The twins are dead._

_HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP_

18 April 1998

The graves were located in a humble little cemetery just outside the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. The headstones were plain, but a profusion of flowers had been planted over the patch of earth, underneath which Fred and George would have been laid to rest, had their bodies been found. The rustling of the new leaves on the trees was the only sound.

Ron sat cross-legged, facing the two gravestones, head in his hands. Hermione knelt behind him and had her arms wrapped around him in silent comfort. Harry stood, unable to take his eyes away from the etched letters of the Weasley twins' names.

He didn't feel struck by grief, nor did he feel angry. Harry had not been galvanized into further, fruitless action by the deaths of the twins. No fury had risen up inside him, making him want to tear Voldemort's body apart, the way Voldemort had torn his own soul. Instead, Harry just couldn't believe it.

Fred and George had gone into St. Mungo's and had never come out again. The sinister wards erected by the Death Eaters had captured them, and even though their bodies had not been retrieved from Voldemort's lair, there was no way that the Death Eaters would have let them live. The sun shone down on the graves, the flowers (surely planted by Mrs. Weasley) grew profusely and colorfully, but all Harry could think about was how ludicrous it was that they were dead.

_Dead._

It had happened in March, and this was the first time that the Death Eaters hadn't been lingering around the cemetery. They still believed that Ron had been struck by spattergroit almost immediately after Dumbledore's death, but they knew that Harry was friendly with the Weasleys. Being Undesirable Number One -  _or even just a_   _friend of Undesirable Number One,_ Harry thought - meant that moments in public were not advisable.

"They killed them," Ron said in anguished disbelief. Harry knew what was going through his mind. They'd all heard through Snape what had happened to Mundungus Fletcher when he'd been caught in the wards. The thought of Fred and George dying like that...

Harry didn't really have any words of comfort to offer.

Ron's shoulders shook, and Harry stepped away, not wanting to intrude on his privacy. Hermione could offer him words and touches of comfort; all Harry could give him was shock and the fact that Harry couldn't believe that Fred and George were dead.

"It's going to be all right," Hermione murmured over and over again.

Harry didn't believe her.


	3. Charmed

**Charmed**

30 June 1998

His skin was clammy, his mouth watered, and his stomach clenched down as soon as Neville Longbottom opened his eyes. Rocketing out of bed in his childhood bedroom, Neville barely made it to the loo in time to reacquaint himself with what he'd eaten the day before.

_Stop it._

Neville looked down at his shaking hands, feeling a sort of grim helplessness. He was not unused to this feeling; he had spent his seventh year at Hogwarts with it as his constant companion. Helpless against the Carrows, helpless against the war, stuck at school, not able to do anything... And now that Moody - Mad-Eye Moody, leader of the Order of the Phoenix - had deemed him acceptable enough to give him a  _very dangerous mission_ , he was frightened out of his bloody mind.

His grandmother's lace curtains billowed in the the early morning breeze. Despite it being summer, it was cold.

"What would Harry do," Neville tried to bolster his courage. Harry wouldn't be scared or timid. And if Harry hadn't been Undesirable Number One, wanted by both the Enforcers and the Death Eaters, Harry probably would have accepted Moody's assignment without a second thought.

Neville was on his seventeenth thought.  _I'm insane._  This fact echoed in his mind as he pushed himself up off the bathroom floor, stumbled back into his room, and dressed. Forcing his heartbeat to calm, he deliberately pulled his best robes over his head. He refused to allow his fingers to tremble. After he finished, he stared out his window at the lovingly attended back garden.  _The roses could do with a trim,_  he thought critically.

Plants. Yes, plants.

He filled his thoughts with how he was going to one day spend all his time on magical horticulture. As he said goodbye to his grandmother, kissing her on her papery thin cheek, he planned out his own greenhouse.  _No, no,_  he told himself as he grabbed a bite of toast and headed for the floo.  _I mustn't keep the Screaming Violets_   _next to the Flaming Roses... that wouldn't do..._

He decided to walk from the Leaky Cauldron. Interspersed with thoughts about plants and horticulture and everything Neville loved, panic occasionally rolled over him, making him want to run for another bathroom. When Moody had first given him the assignment, Neville had thought he was joking... shouldn't something like that be given to someone slightly more competent? Moody had guessed his thoughts and had insisted, quite gruffly, that Neville was the best man for the job. This had buoyed him enough that Neville had told Moody yes, he'd do it, before he'd actually had a chance to think about it.

 _I'm insane,_ Neville moaned inwardly.

Neville was standing in front of the pimply faced security wizard just inside the Ministry of Magic before he even realized it.

"Blood status?" the young wizard - probably only a few years older than Neville himself - asked. He sounded bored, uninterested, but his eyes were keen.

"Pure," Neville responded promptly, trying to sound proud of it.

He arched a brow. "You sure about that?"

"No mud in my veins," Neville confirmed, offering a silent apology to Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas, and Colin Creevey, and his other friends who were Muggleborn.

"Business at the Ministry?"

Neville breathed out through his nostrils. "I'm here to see John Dawlish," he forced himself to say firmly. "I want - I'm going to be an Enforcer."

11 July 1998

**ENFORCERS ENJOY EXPANSION IN NUMBERS**

Ben Linus

_It can only be explained by the recent Hogwarts graduation, but the year old Enforcer Squad (which replaced the Auror Department) has recently seen a vast increase in numbers. Sons and more than a few daughters from pure-blood families which typically pursued other professions have decided to join up as well (see_ _"Pure-bloods and Politics: A Renaissance"). "Everyone here at the Ministry, and all pure-bloods in Britain, are quite pleased to see the increase in numbers," said Minister Pius Thicknesse._

The former Auror Headquarters are filled to bursting with recent Hogwarts graduates and others. "Yes, Madam Lestrange was very persuasive in her encouragement to join the Enforcer Squad," said Uther Dobbs, pure-blood, and distantly related to the Selwyn family. "I'm quite proud to do so," he added. The Enforcers differ from the Snatchers in several different ways (not least of which is truly superior blood-status), and a rigorous training regiment (not unlike the former Auror training, though vastly more effective) is required for all new Enforcers.

"We only hope that wise young people will continue to join," said Madam Bellatrix Lestrange, who has spent a significant amount of time recruiting wizards and witches to help protect the Ministry from terrorist organizations and Mudblood rebellions. "The future of Wizarding society is at stake, and we need every wand to join our cause."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

15 August 1998

Ginny waited until a few days after her seventeenth birthday to talk to Moody about joining the Order of the Phoenix. Just to keep her mother off the scent.

And if there had been anything that the Carrows had taught her during her sixth year at Hogwarts, it had been to be more patient and cunning... more like a Slytherin, she supposed. But regardless, she had spent the entire summer  _not_  talking about the Order of the Phoenix, and pretending that the war didn't exist.

It certainly made her mother happier.

The peace was kept. Ginny did not mention the dementor attacks (even when Mr. Fawcett had suffered the Dementor's Kiss), or the increasing amount of Muggle deaths, or indicate at all that she spent a significant amount of time around the corner from the kitchen, listening to the  _real_  news. She refused to talk about Harry, Ron, and Hermione (even though she thought about them all the time). And when she mentioned Fred and George, it was only to express the grief, and not to talk about the way they died.

Somehow, Ginny managed to fool her mother into thinking that the argument they'd had the year before (the one that had caused all the windows in the Burrow to need to be replaced) had been resolved. Molly Weasley no longer believed that Ginny was willing to risk life and limb to throw herself into the cause for which the rest of her family fought.

_If Mum really believes that, she deserves to be lied to._

Her chance came several days after her birthday, when the summer holidays were waning, and it was almost time to pack her trunk and return to school. And the Carrows. The scar on her shoulder twitched a little when she thought about Hogwarts, and she almost walked right by Moody sitting at the kitchen table, her mother nowhere in sight.

Not only was Molly Weasley not in sight, but Ginny knew for a fact that she'd be gone for at least another hour.

She paused outside the door to the kitchen, watching him carefully. Moody looked a lot older than the last time she'd seen him. A livid scar slashed across his cheek, joining the rest of his souvenirs from the war with Voldemort, and from being an Auror. He rubbed his knee, his mouth falling open in what Ginny knew to be a private gesture of pain.

Not wanting to watch, she strode in. "Mr. Moody," she said differentially, not knowing quite what to call him? Mad-Eye seemed too informal... she couldn't exactly call him Professor Moody - he'd never actually been her professor.

"Call me Mad-Eye," he said gruffly, not even looking at her.

_Just do it._

"I want to join the Order of the Phoenix," Ginny said strongly. He didn't look at her, and annoyance rose up inside her. "I'm seventeen years old, and I know you wanted an insider's perspective at Hogwarts - and not a professor's - which is why you let Neville and the others join last year. And I want to do the same this year. I-"

"Your mother said you weren't interested," Mad-Eye said, keeping his eyes on his knee. "Says you don't talk about it anymore. If this is some frivolous-"

"I am  _not_  frivolous," Ginny said sharply. The Burrow's kitchen seemed very small and hot all of a sudden; the back of her neck burned, as did the tips of her ears. "I've been wanting to join for years. My mother doesn't seem to think I'm capable of it," she added bitterly. Moody turned his head, an unreadable expression in his eyes. "I've been part of Dumbledore's Army since my fourth year; I fought at the Ministry of Magic-"

"You don't need to list your qualifications to me, Ginevra-"

"Call me Ginny-"

"Ginny, then," he said. "The fact of the matter is, your mother would kill me-"

"I don't care about my mother!" Ginny almost yelled. "I'm of age, and I'm  _damned_  sick and tired of hearing about everyone I love dying and in danger while I'm protected!" She blew out a furious breath, certain that her cheeks were bright red. Fred and George's words echoed back at her.

_Prove Mum wrong, Gin._

Yeah. She hasn't a clue what you're capable of.

Maybe you should show her your Bat-Bogey Hex. She'd come around, then.

"All right," said Moody.

"What?" Ginny said blankly. "What? All right? You're going to let me join?"

"It isn't all fun and games, but I expect you know that," he said, magical eye whizzing around before coming to rest on her. She remained motionless under the scrutiny. "And you'll have to agree to certain terms - that's what I've come to talk to your mother about, and your father - that may seem... restrictive to you. I got the idea from Harry's house-elf..."

"I'll do anything," said Ginny.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

02 September 1998

Surprisingly, it was Hermione that objected most strongly to Mad-Eye Moody's new security measures. Harry had been a little taken aback, Ron had grimaced but didn't have a strong opinion either way.

Hermione was still raging, two hours later. "It's completely ludicrous," she said scathingly. Harry was glad that she wasn't still pacing back and forth - the relentless motion around the otherwise empty war room at Grimmauld Place had begun to make him dizzy. "There's no reason why-"

"Dedalus Diggle," Harry said quietly. It was true that the measures were harsh. But Moody's increased paranoia had been in direct response to Dedalus Diggle being taken by the Enforcers, handed over to the Death Eaters, and killed. But before Diggle had died, the Enforcers had rounded up Diggle's sister, brother, and their families. No one had survived; in one night, an entire extended family had been wiped off the earth.

The Death Eaters and Enforcers (though Harry thought of them as one and the same) had begun to take extremely harsh members against any Order members they found.

"It's excessive," Hermione said after a moment's pause.

Harry could not argue that. Moody had confided in Harry that he'd been inspired by Kreacher's obedience to Harry. The compulsion charms on the house elf were very effective. And so too were the charms now placed on Order members. Harry's thoughts drifted, and he stared at the objects floating in mid-air around the room. Snakeskin had joined the diary and the ring, to Harry's grim satisfaction. Nagini had attempted to ambush him, Ron, and Hermione when they went to Godric's Hollow.

But Nagini had been the one to die.

"If this will better protect people, then I'm for it," said Harry.

"You realize that now you won't be able to talk to anyone about the Order-"

"Who would we talk to?" Ron asked.

"Your parents, for one," Hermione shot back. "Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, Neville... our  _friends._ "

Ron stared broodingly down at his hands. Harry couldn't blame him. Ron's large family had lost two members, and the rest of them, they only saw sporadically. Percy was still apparently working for the Ministry (what he was doing with full ownership of WWW, Harry had no idea). Neither Harry, Ron, nor Hermione had even seen Ginny since they had left with the Order after Dumbledore's funeral. "I never see them anyway," Ron said. "My family, I mean."

"And now thanks to Moody, even if we  _did_  run into them here, we still wouldn't have a clue who they were," Hermione told him.

"We haven't been here very often anyway," Ron argued. "I've only seen Dad here once..."

Harry couldn't lie. The idea of the two charms Moody had placed over them was slightly disturbing. The first charm ensured that they would  _always_  be in disguise whenever they were carrying out Order business. The second stopped them from speaking about the Order.  _The charms are absolute,_  Moody had said.  _It's the same_   _kind of thing with the house-elves. Except that you won't be able to break it... there will be no need to punish yourselves for disobeying. You simply won't be able to do it._

If Order members were caught by Death Eaters or Enforcers, they would not be able to tell them anything. And the Death Eaters would have no idea who they were, so there would be no chance for repercussions to befall innocents.

Moody's methods were extreme, but Harry couldn't fault his reasoning. He leaned back in his chair. "We don't have a choice, Hermione," Harry told her. "The charms have already been cast on us."

"And at least we can still talk to each other," said Ron.

Hermione's face set in mulish lines, and she flung her bushy hair away from her face. She looked very young, and Harry found it hard to believe that she would have her twentieth birthday in a few days.

"It's going to go badly," she announced.

"What else is new?" muttered Ron.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

23 November 1998

Draco Malfoy's silvery hair stood out like a beacon. Ginny noticed it immediately, even though the sun was lowering itself behind the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. Suddenly, she was not in so much of a hurry.  _What the hell is he doing_   _here?_ Seeing him again was like having her stomach filled with acid, and sheremembered that his father had been responsible for the wards around St. Mungo's - Fred and George's deaths-

 _Stop,_ she ordered herself. Breathing slowly through her nose, she watched as Draco made his way down the path toward the Forbidden Forest. Another figure joined him. Squinting, she recognized Amycus Carrow's lumpy nose and potato-shaped body, and for a moment, anger tingled across her skin.

In an instant, her decision was made, and she changed course. Instead of going to the Gryffindor common room like a good little girl, she turned on her heel and, bypassing a giggling crowd of first years, she headed toward the doors that led outside. The November air was cold and dipping down to frigid; goosebumps pebbled her skin, and she hugged her cloak tighter to her body, and hurried along in the direction of Malfoy and Carrow. Soon she was skirting the outside of the Forbidden Forest. The wind rustled in the leaves, and brought snatches of conversation to her ears.

" _He_  said that you were to do it alone, didn't he?" Carrow said smugly.

"Don't be a fool," was Malfoy's reply.

Ginny smiled grimly at the fear the bastard couldn't hide. Draco Malfoy had always been a coward; he took after his father, that bugger. The words drifted away from her and she edged closer, feeling the familiar compulsion to change her appearance. It was like Moody's voice yelling in her ear, and Ginny took a moment to marvel at the fact that she _had_  to obey it, even when she technically wasn't on official Order business. After she'd given herself the shifting form, she whispered the spell that would muffle her footsteps. She contemplated casting a Disillusionment Charm over herself, but night was coming fast, and she was far enough away from them to be safe.

She edged closer, hugging close to trees. Malfoy mumbled something as Carrow headed away from him, and a light flared suddenly. Ginny watched him look to the left and the right, and then behind him. His features were drawn in an unpleasant mix of anger, disdain, and fear. Then, uncertainly, he headed forward, deeper into the forest, his wandlight bobbing out in front of him.

The chill grew more intense, and Ginny realized that he must be giving a message to the dementors that guarded the school, ensuring that no one got in or out through the more conventional means. Grimacing (dementors were the creatures Ginny hated most besides Death Eaters), she continued on. The presence of the creatures grew stronger with every step, like a frozen weight on her chest.

She stopped when she was just close enough to hear Malfoy.

"-haven't found out for certain," Draco said, voice thready and thin. "But the Dark Lord is most displeased that someone so high up in the Ministry is a Mudblood."

A huge shadow loomed closer to Malfoy, causing his small light to flicker and die. But if the dementor answered him in words, Ginny couldn't hear it. She'd never actually heard one speak, but she thought they could.

Malfoy continued on. "A Mudblood at the Ministry after all this time... Father says that if _he_  had been appointed Minister instead of that fool Thicknesse, all the Mudbloods would've been weeded out months ago and-"

The dementor rattled and hissed.

Malfoy squeaked and jumped back. He automatically pretended that the motion was deliberate, and glanced down at his nails. "Father would have been an excellent Minister," he mumbled. "But the Dark Lord told me to tell you that if the kid's father is a Mudblood - which we are almost certain he is - then you can give the kid a Kiss."

Ginny clapped her hand over her mouth, revulsion rippling over her skin.  _Give me_   _the name of the kid, give me the name of the kid,_ she chanted.

Even though her command had been silent, Malfoy obeyed anyway. "Barrow is a first year," he said. "You can have her soul, the Dark Lord wants to make an example of her. But only if she really is a Mudblood. We don't want to waste pure blood." There were a few more moments of conversation, then Amycus Carrow was backing away. Malfoy turned to go back to the castle.

Ginny followed him numbly, horrified at what she had just heard.  _A first year,_  she kept repeating to herself.  _Eleven years old, and they want to tear out her soul..._ _make an example..._ It disgusted her, but at the same time it reinforced the fact that it was right to have joined the Order of the Phoenix, if only to save Barrow from a fate worse than death. Ginny thought she might now her: a small dark shadow who had been Sorted into Gryffindor. Ginny remembered thinking it was one of the more... unusual choices the Hat had made. But good God. A Muggle-born at Hogwarts needed courage as vast as the sea.

So intent was she on her thoughts that it was only very quick reflexes developed by hours on a broom dodging Bludgers that helped her dodge the first spell. Ginny dropped and the tree behind her burst into flame-

"I know you're there!" Malfoy shouted. "Come out - you don't want to anger me, I'm a Death Eater!"

For a frozen instant, Ginny did nothing but crouch on the ground, listening to her own breath. He took three half steps toward her.  _I can just take away his memories,_ she thought. The decision took an instant, and she stood, wand raised-

" _Crucio!_ " he yelled.

And instead of stealing his memory of her or something similar, the sound of the Unforgivable coming from his lips on top of his indifference toward an eleven year old  _child_ , Ginny shrieked, " _Reducto!_ " even as she dodged Malfoy's curse.

He was not as quick as she was. The force of her spell lifted him off his feet and sent him spinning backward, tumbling head over foot, grunting.

_Snap!_

His body hit the tree behind him with great force, and the moment it happened, Ginny knew that he was dead. Still, she waited, but the lump that was Draco Malfoy did not move, nor make a sound. She moved closer, considering the possibility that he could just be unconscious or even pretending, ready to ambush her if she drew close enough-

_No. He's dead._

Ginny didn't know why she was so certain, but she was...

Finally, she was close enough to see him. His eyes were open and sightless; his mouth gaped, and the side of his face was torn apart and bloody. His neck had almost snapped in two-

 _I've killed him,_ Ginny thought, stunned. She'd killed him in one instant. Her spell,her wand.

She turned her head and vomited, and heaved up the contents of her stomach until it was completely empty, and she just retched. Pressing her hand to her lips, she realized that her entire body was trembling violently... she wanted nothing more than to sit down and let the tremors subside... but would they?

_Dead._

The word echoed in her head, and she didn't know how long she stood there, staring at the body, totally uncertain about how she should be feeling and acting. Her feet were rooted to the spot and it was almost as if she was just another tree in the Forbidden Forest... a silent witness and not a killer... "I-" she said to no one. But she couldn't continue, and slowly it came to her that she needed to leave this place before someone else came along. Carrow might come looking for Draco... a centaur could come across this place, or the dementors could find them.

She lifted her feet - they felt heavy and numb - and took a step. And then another, and another until she was well on her way out of the forest, back to the castle, toward Barrow so that she could get him out of Hogwarts, and, most of all, away from Malfoy's body.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

01 December 1998

**DRACO MALFOY, DEAD**

Benjamin Linus

 _A spokeswizard from the Enforcement Squad (see "Why Aurors Should Have Been Replaced by Enforcers a Long Time Ago," page 3) told the_ Daily Prophet _last night that Draco Malfoy, scion of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and nephew to Bellatrix Lestrange, was killed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "We're not sure if it was a wild, magical creature or a member of the terrorist organization, the Order of the Phoenix," said Ethan Rom, head investigator on the sensational case. "It's almost certain that it was a rogue centaur, or even an acromantula, but it's best not to just assume, right? We've got to make sure it wasn't a wizard, right?"_

_Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has, of course, taken a personal interest in the case. "There are no members of the Order of the Phoenix on Hogwarts grounds," he told us early this morning. "I would never tolerate it, and neither would the dementors. The Forbidden Forest has long been a place for violent magical creatures - our former gameskeeper saw to that. It was a deeply unfortunate accident. If one wants to blame a human, blame Amycus Carrow, who allowed young Draco to seek out the dementors unescorted." When asked why Draco Malfoy was on the school grounds, Headmaster Snape only offered a succinct, "Ministry business."_

_As to Amycus Carrow-_

"What do you want to bet old Lucius killed him?" Ron asked, sounding grimly satisfied.

Harry glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. The twins' deaths had shaken

Ron deeply. Not that Ron would not have professed delight that Draco Malfoy was dead (and likely Amycus Carrow) before Fred and George had been caught in the web at St. Mungo's. But there was no hint of bravado on Ron's face or in his tone. He was not disturbed in the slightest at the deaths.

And neither was Harry. Draco was young, yes, but he'd murdered Dumbledore and who knew who else.

"Carrow will probably disappear, just like Scrimgeour did," observed Harry. It amazed him how little the  _Daily Prophet_  managed to get right. None of the buggering reporters even bothered to investigate; they just repeated whatever line the Death Eaters and the Ministry told them.

"Another two down," Ron said casually, leaning up against the sofa and slinging his arm over the back of it.

Hermione let out a small sigh. Harry looked away when he saw the genuine worry on her face as she gazed at her boyfriend. It was too intimate, seeing her concern for Ron. She didn't say anything, for which Harry was grateful. Hermione had already expressed her opinion quite a lot over the past several months.

 _Though she's been strangely silent ever since Tutshill,_ Harry thought. Almost twomonths prior, Moody had sent them on a mission to flush out a few Death Eaters who were engaged in illicit poison trade. It had ended with dueling in the air, during which Ron was responsible for the deaths of two Death Eaters. Ron had sat up outside the tent, keeping watch, for almost two days straight.

Harry ignored the pang in his stomach, though the stray thought that Ron was now a hero (according to Kingsley Shacklebolt) and very wealthy (thanks to Fred and George's will) crossed his mind. It made him strangely sad that Ron had gotten what he'd thought he wanted for so long, only to find it as empty as Harry did.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, startled.

Harry blinked, completely unaware that he'd stood up. "Er - out," he told her, ruffling his hair. "Just... outside."

"Going to go push out a few tears over Malfoy?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, that's right," Harry grinned. "I wanted to have a good cry without you two looking on."

It was probably good that Harry had given the two of them some privacy; they got precious little of it, and were sometimes forced to do... whatever they did under the covers (Harry had no interest in finding out how far the couple had gotten) while he was actually in the room. Not for the first time, Harry wished that they could return to Grimmauld Place whenever they wanted. That way Hermione could help Ron with his aggression without Harry having to listen to it.

But not just that. He missed Grimmauld Place as it had been before Moody had placed the compulsion charms on them. Two little spells, and all the camaraderie had gone out of the Order. Even if they went back to Sirius' old home, they wouldn't know the people who were there.

Harry sat down, cross-legged, outside the entrance of the tent and looked into the night.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

17 December 1998

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had not heard word from anyone. Moody did not attempt to contact them, and their little tent was so full of tension and the desire to  _act_ , to do something - _anything_ \- that Harry had a nearly constant headache.

"I wish we could just fucking do something!" Ron said loudly. He paced the tent like a caged tiger, in constant motion.

Harry stared moodily at his wand, feeling Hermione's stern gaze on the back of his neck. Harry wanted to start talking loudly and venting his frustration, too. But they couldn't both go off at the same time. The last time they'd both lost their tempers - at the situation, not at each other - they'd blown up the section of forest they'd been living in.

Apparently, that was a bad thing.

According to Hermione.

The feeling of dissatisfaction just kept growing, with every moment they spent trapped in the tent, and not out whittling away at Voldemort's forces, or looking for the damn Horcruxes. It hit Ron especially hard, Harry knew. But that didn't mean that he should be forced to always hold in his temper-

"I agree, Ron," Harry said firmly.

"Harry-" Hermione said warningly.

"I just think that-"

"I  _know_ ," Harry cut across him. "You want to be out doing something, destroying You-Know-Who, not sitting in this little tent-"

"Listen-"

"It's fucking mental," Ron fairly roared. "We're sitting here having tea and biscuits while - while... people are getting killed." He grabbed the cup off the little wooden table, and pretended to sip at it. "Yes, Ronald," he said in a shrill voice. "Let's have another cup... You-Know-Who has his ugly hands wrapped around our throats, but let's have some tea-"

Harry knew it was bad when Ron started mocking random things. Especially when it was food related, something Ron generally took very seriously.

"It's better than not having anything," Hermione pointed out fairly.

This did not help. Harry could have told her it wouldn't have.

"Yeah, and let's think of who doesn't have anything," Ron said scornfully. "Muggleborns, Muggles, members of the Order, I'm sure-"

"You aren't the only one who wants to take action!" Hermione said.

Harry almost fell off his chair. Without him knowing it, Hermione had apparently lost her temper right along with Ron. High spots of color had appeared in her cheeks, and her eyes flashed dangerously. Even her hair seemed bushier than ever, as though Hermione's rage had made it stand up on ends.

"Well, you're the one constantly holding us back-"

"Oh, is that it, Ron?" Hermione asked snidely. "Am I keeping you from going out and doing something rash because I'm bossy, or a know-it-all?"

Harry winced, wishing that the tent was large enough so that he could make a full retreat. The awful sarcasm in her voice never boded well, and Harry wished he didn't have to be in such close proximity to both the fighting, and then the inevitable make-up sex. Glumly, he realized that he was going to have a very long night, huddled outside keeping watch.

"You're a-"

"Shut up!" Ron snapped, holding up his hand.

"Don't you-"

"I mean it," he said. " _Listen._ "

Blinking, Harry turned to where Ron was now pointing: toward the flap of the tent. Snatches of a conversation reached his ears, and Harry's heart immediately started thudding with excitement. Adrenaline surged through his body, and he exchanged a grin with Ron.

"-still get paid?"

"I assume so," said a man.

"They'd better," said the first voice, huffing. "I hate the Enforcers-"

Unbelievably, Harry felt disappointed that whoever was talking was against the Enforcers-

"They're always stealing pay from us," the second man agreed. "Just glorified bloody Aurors, if you ask me. When's the last time they rounded up a Mudblood, eh? No, it's the cushy jobs for them-"

"Arses," the first man spat.

"Snatchers," Ron said happily.

"Don't go charging out yet," Hermione said, all anger faded from her voice. "  _Homenum Revelio,_ " she whispered the spell that would tell them how many peoplewere outside their tent. Despite the fact that the protective charms around the tent were obviously working, she did not speak again, but held up two fingers. And almost without thinking about it, Harry lifted his wand and cast the charm that would give his appearance a fluidity... he would not be recognized...

"Let's go," said Ron, after he too had changed his appearance. Hermione was a second behind the two of them, but less than a minute after they'd heard the Snatchers, they were ready to fight.

The Snatchers were not quite as stupid as they sounded. As soon as Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped across the protective charms surrounding the tent, one of the Snatchers ducked, and the second sent a curse at them. Ron pulled Hermione out of the way just in time: Instead of hitting her, it sailed off into the trees.

" _Stupefy!_ " shouted Harry. The man who had crouched down did not roll away in time. His body fell over heavily, knocking into the second man's knees, distracting him enough that Ron's curse struck him right in the belly. With a little moan of pain, the man's broad face crumpled, and he scrabbled at his stomach before he too fell to the ground.

"That was George's favorite curse," Ron said, kicking out and catching the stunned man in knee. He didn't move.

Harry sniffed, and made a disgusted face. The smell of feces was suddenly very strong. "Why am I not surprised that George's favorite curse would make someone shit themselves?" Harry asked.

Ron's smile didn't reach his eyes. "You should see Fred's favorite..."

"What are we going to do with them?" Hermione asked, nose wrinkled, and obviously breathing through her mouth. "We're not going to kill them," she added.

"Snap their wands," said Ron.

"We need to take them out, though," Harry said thoughtfully. He hated the idea of killing two men in cold blood - he wouldn't ever do that - but he also didn't want to just let them go back to being Snatchers, and a part of Voldemort's force. "Otherwise we might as well have just stayed in the tent."

"Do you think they'd know who killed Fred and George?" Ron asked casually.

"We can question them," Hermione pointed out.

Harry stared at her, considering. What if... "What if we did to them what you did to your parents?" Harry asked. "After we question them, we can just give them different-"

"-Identities?" Hermione said. "It's a thought... but it'll take quite some time. Charms like that are easily broken if they aren't thorough enough. And I'd really like to brush up on the theory of it - oh, I wish we could talk to Snape, he'd know exactly how to go about it-"

"I just want to find out who killed them," Ron said grimly.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

08 January 1999

**ENFORCERS TO BUILD NEW COMPOUND**

Ben Linus

_Minister Thicknesse announced today that the problem of over-crowding in the Enforcer Department at the Ministry of Magic has been solved. Instead of not accepting new applicants - an idea that frightens many of us (see "The Best Defense is a Good Offense," page 5) - the Enforcers have acquired a small island, where they will train, house, and office the enterprising young wizards and witches, who have decided to dedicate their lives to the safety of the Wizarding World._

_"It's already being built," said John Dawlish, now Head of the Enforcer Department. "This plan has been in the works since Madam Lestrange began recruiting for our new department. She's very persuasive, and we knew that wizards and witches would want to join up. It was inevitable." While the exact name of the island will not be disclosed, it is in the Orkney Island chain. Enforcer Headquarters will remain at the Ministry of Magic, but the majority of the operations will take place from the new compound._

_"I think it's a really good idea," said Neville Longbottom, who has been an Enforcer since his graduation from Hogwarts. "It's gotten a bit crowded down at the Ministry." He described working in two hour shifts, and the fact that not every Enforcer is able to have a desk, but must share with three to six other people. In fact (continued on page 3)_

_HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP_

13 February 1999

"Remind me why St. Mungo's is so bloody important," Neville muttered.

The corridors echoed with their footsteps. Neville was no stranger to the hospital

he had visited his parents often throughout the years, not to mention he'd earned a bed of his own with all of his childish mishaps - but it was damn eerie to see it so empty. This was his sixth time patrolling the halls, and it still struck him. Three quarters of the rooms were empty. A lot of the healers had left, either because they were Muggleborn, or because they refused to work under You-Know-Who's conditions.

"Didn't they go over that in training?" Enforcer Lucas Savage looked over at him.

Neville scrubbed a hand over his face, exhausted just thinking about the almost four months of daily hell. "A bit," he admitted. Mostly it had been defensive and offensive magic, duel practice, stealthiness, and all the other skills that being an Enforcer required.

"That's right," said Savage. "I forgot that they don't exactly teach current events in the classroom-"

"It wasn't a classroom," said Neville. "It was an old courtroom at the Ministry, and we-"

"Trifles," Savage said. "I know you got the same training I did," he added. "Enforcer training is almost the same as Auror training, and we sure as hell didn't learn about current events," he told him. "Not that there was much to talk about when I was in training, but..." his voice trailed away, and Neville kept his gaze fixed on the far wall. They moved steadily forward, wands held out.

"Enforcer Dawlish allowed me to use his training manual," Neville offered, when he realized that Savage was wary of  _him_. It was laughable, that an Enforcer was afraid of saying something treasonous to an undercover member of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Regardless," Savage said strongly. "Listen," he stopped in the middle of the hall.

A mediwitch peered around the corner, eyeing them, before disappearing again. "St.

Mungo's is almost as important as even the Ministry or Hogwarts in terms of

strategic importance. The Ministry, because that's where the government

is"-Neville highly doubted that. Thicknesse may be the Minister, but Voldemort was

in charge. Wherever  _he_  was, there was the government-"and if any... terrorist

organization got control of it-"

Which was, in Neville's mind, exactly what had happened.

"-that would give them a huge advantage," Savage continued. He opened a door, and then pulled it closed after checking to make sure no one was lurking in an empty room. "Hogwarts is another place of importance, and not just because the Undesirable Number One is somewhat likely to return there, but because it is a place where habits and ideas are formed, and knowledge is imparted. Which is why we have security there almost as tight as here at St. Mungo's, and why we have those closely aligned with the power in this country teaching sensitive subjects."

Neville had to admire how delicately Savage put it. Alecto Carrow was closely aligned with the power in this country, all right - she was a Death Eater. And her brother had been replaced with another Death Eater. Defense Against the Dark Arts was no more; the Dark Arts reigned. First years were learning in Muggle Studies that those without magic were inferior, and not even human. It made him sick.

"And St. Mungo's?" Neville asked easily. They reached the end of the corridor and turned, almost as one.

"St. Mungo's has healing supplies, potions, and other things that anyone hoping to fight in a war would need," Savage said simply. "Not only that, but consider the location. London - near the Ministry of Magic. If a... terrorist organization was to seize control of it, it not only has the supplies it needs to keep going, but it has an advantageous location as well. Which is why we have so many different wards surrounding the place-"

"Wards?" Neville asked, surprised. He'd only heard of one here: the Web, as Seamus Finnegan had called it.

"Only one of them is really used," said Savage. "The rest are only there as a back up plan. No one wants to explain to  _him_  that we let his enemies in."

Neville nodded, wondering if Voldemort's allies were actually more afraid of him than his enemies.


	4. Tangled Webs

**Tangled Webs**

01 March 1999

The dirty street was deserted except for two figures standing very still in the mist and shadows, staring at the ugly façade of a department store that was permanently "closed for renovations." The witch pulled her cloak in tighter around her body, shivering. The Muggles would think the mist almost natural for June in Britain – London fog, and all that – but the chill of it went deeper than the bones.

Harry Potter kept his gaze fixed on the entrance to St. Mungo's. Nothing else really mattered to him, at the moment. The mist that meant a heavy presence of dementors didn't faze him, except to make his determination deeper and colder. Ron Weasley was hurt, dying even, and without one simple potion, Hermione wouldn't be able to keep him alive after another three days.

Before Voldemort had taken over the Ministry almost exactly two years before, antidotes for poisons and curses had been easy to get. But now that the people in power were the ones to do the poisoning and cursing, even things like Skele-Gro were held under lock and key. And Ron needed to have several of his internal organs re-grown.

Pearly white light shimmered over the ground and then coalesced into a long line, like an electrical cord, in front of the entrance to St. Mungo's.  _Well done,_  Harry thought grimly, congratulating the unknown Curse-Breaker who was helping them with their task.

He gripped the witch's arm tightly and started pulling her across the road. They would have five seconds to cross the line without tripping the wards. Harry did not want to think about how complicated it was for the Curse-Breaker – maybe it was even Bill Weasley – to let down the wards enough to cross, but at the same time preserving them. The Death Eaters might find it a little suspicious to find all their protective measures gone.

"Let's go," he said unnecessarily.

The witch didn't say anything. He couldn't blame her.

For a bare second, they stood with one foot over the line and one foot before it. All the hair on Harry's arms stood straight up, and a horrible tingle passed over hisbody. It felt similar to having the flu, and being unable to stand the touch of someone's hand or even clothes, because the skin was so sensitive.

The witch sucked in a breath.

 _The witch._ Inwardly, Harry grimaced at the fact he had no clue whatsoever whothis person was. It was quite possible that he could die tonight, and still he had no idea who he would be dying with. At least with Ron and Hermione, he always knew who they were. Mad-Eye wouldn't have dared break up their team; he hadn't even wanted to.

But Harry couldn't ignore the fact that he was partially to blame for these stringent security concerns, though he only felt a vague, dim sort of guilt. He hadn't known the dangers of speaking a secret out loud, and Dumbledore had died (felled by a poisoned bottle of oak-matured mead – that still seemed ludicrous to Harry, that the greatest wizard of the age had been killed by  _Draco Malfoy_ , of all people) before he could warn Harry.

So Harry had told the Order of the Phoenix of the task… and Order members – his stomach felt heavy when he thought of Dedalus and the way he had died – had been tortured. Voldemort knew what they knew, for the most part, and it was really only through the paranoia of Mad-Eye Moody that they were able to keep going.

Harry glanced again at the witch beside him, thinking of Moody's stringent security measures; he sometimes liked to make a game of it (not that he was often sent on missions without Ron and Hermione, but that was the point of why he was breaking into St. Mungo's tonight), trying to guess the identity of his partner. But her appearance was too fluid to do so. One moment he had the impression that her eyes were blue, and she had a pixie-cut, and the next, her hair reached the middle of her back, and her eyes were a warm brown.

It was dizzying to watch, so Harry had to look away.

"Are you all right?" he asked gruffly.

"Yeah," she whispered, nodding, even though they were surrounded by a Silencing Charm. As long as they remained in contact – she had her arm looped through his – they could speak as loudly as they wanted to each other, and no one else could hear them.

Both of them stood just over the shimmering line, which slowly faded and disappeared, signifying that the wards were up again fully; they were trapped. And to be trapped here in the wards was basically a death sentence, Harry knew. Several members of the Order of the Phoenix had died here.

Fred and George Weasley, included.

It was as though a hot poker had been applied to his intestines. It had been over a year since Fred and George had died, but being here just brought it all back. What was worse was that Harry could envision how it must have happened. Fred and George must have been too slow, too suspicious. The wards had been activated, and they'd been trapped in a web of magic, unable to free themselves. And then the Death Eaters, like poisonous spiders, came and killed them.

Harry no longer stopped to consider the ramifications of a hospital being more heavily guarded than the Ministry of Magic (Harry knew this for certain - he, Ron, and Hermione had broken into it just last week to retrieve the locket Horcrux). The Death Eaters were running amok in the country; it only seemed natural that not only did they steal the lives of fathers and mothers and children, but that they tightly control access to healing.

"Those assholes are just hard to believe," the witch said in a low, fierce voice.

"Who?" he asked, already turned to stare at the window that would lead them to the inside of St. Mungo's.

She waved her arm expansively. "It seems like a hospital should be neutral territory," she said. But before Harry could ask her what world she lived in and whether it was possible to Floo or Apparate or take a Portkey to this reality, she added, "Not this world, though, eh?"

"Nope," Harry answered. She stepped forward through the barrier first, this time pulling  _him_  along.

Once inside, both of them were very quiet. It was very simple: if anything went wrong badly enough, they would die. Harry briefly wondered (as he had since Moody had implemented the 'No Charm, No Mission' policy) if they got caught now, whether the Death Eaters would kill him, or if the prophecy hanging over his head acted as a shield, and he could only be killed by Voldemort.

The witch jerked him suddenly to the side. "Death Eater," she breathed. Harry swiveled his head up and down the corridor. A man in a black cloak lounged against a wall, speaking to someone Harry couldn't see.  _Probably chatting up a mediwitch,_  he thought.

"Let's just keep going," he said firmly.

She paused for a moment. "All right," she said.

Harry couldn't believe that Moody had placed him with someone obviously inexperienced. "Listen," he said. He really didn't have the time to hold her hand through a dangerous situation. Ron's life was at stake. "If you're scared, you can stay here. Because I really don't need to babysit-"

"I'm not scared," she replied. "I just think it might be a good plan to cast an Obfuscation Charm after us. I thought, oh, I don't know, maybe it would be a good idea to maybe protect ourselves a little more? Especially now that we  _know_  there are Death Eaters or Enforcers in the building?"

Harry grimaced inwardly. It had been a very long time since anyone had actually called him on anything. And this witch had been just as firm about it as Ginny Weasley had always been. While he'd been thinking about it, the witch had cast the charm, attaching it to a nearby doorknob, so that anyone who passed it would feel a very gentle sort of confusion.

"No time for apologies," she said breezily, marching forward.

Harry followed her, scowling.

The potions supply room was located in the basement, only reachable by stairs; from the first floor, the lift only went up. The stairs were stone, and the walls damp and cold. No portraits hung here; very few hung in St. Mungo's at all anymore. Most had been exiled to a storage room for insurrection, Harry had been told.

"The point of no return," the witch said softly.

"Yep," Harry agreed. If they were caught here, they were dead.  _Think of Ron. Ron_   _is_ definitely _dead unless you get the antidote._ He pushed away the part of him thatwas afraid, and didn't hesitate as he continued down the stairs and into the basement. It was more well lit than he expected - it was more similar a level in the Ministry of Magic than the dungeons at Hogwarts.

Somehow, without even being aware of it, Harry's hand had slid from her elbow to her hand. Her palms were damp. It suddenly struck him as slightly funny that the first time he held hands with a girl since Cho Chang, it was while in the bowels of a hospital while on a dangerous mission. And he didn't even know the girl's name.

 _Maybe Hermione is right,_ Harry thought. _Maybe I_ have _gotten jaded._

The witch twisted her head around, looking behind him, and distracted him from his thoughts and brought him back to reality. "It's clear," she said. Her voice trembled a little. It was only then that Harry realized they stood in front of the potions room.

 _I'm the inexperienced one,_ Harry thought ruefully. Or maybe he was just the Horcrux had been great for about an hour, and then Harry had realized how much further they had to go. The unknown Horcrux was still exactly that: unknown. And...

He silently cast the spells that would alert him to lurking dangers, and then opened the door. Begrudgingly, he said a silent thank you to Severus Snape, who had imperfectly cast the security charms on the door in the first place, making it simple to get in.

She shut the door behind them.

"Right," he said in a normal voice. "We're looking for Argamenthumus. I'm told it's in a small phial - not one of the large ones - and it's a smoky blue color. And it bubbles," he added helpfully.

They set to work straightaway. Harry glanced down at his watch, grimacing. They only had seven and a half minutes until they had to cross the wards outside again. "I'll look over here," he said, gesturing.

The witch shrugged, and let go of his hand. Immediately, a rushing filled his ears and subsided. He wouldn't be able to hear her until they had physical contact again. Shaking his head, he strode over to the nearest shelf, and began scanning the names on the bottles, wishing he could just use his magic to summon it, but knowing it was inadvisable. Using magic in the supply room would set off all sorts of alarms.

_Draught of Peace._

Limmertentia.

Rigorfis.

The titles blurred and he read quickly, and it was only through chance that he saw the witch make a hurried movement out the corner of his eye, and watched as a large phial full of bright orange liquid fell to the floor, shattering.

The witch hopped backward, and Harry met her in the middle of the room, catching her by the elbow. "All right?" he asked.

"Fine," she said. "I've -  _damn_ , my leg is cut."

They both stared down at the rapidly spreading stain; Harry's dismay grew. They couldn't risk using magic-

As though reading his mind, the witch knelt and began to scoop the liquid in cupped hands, and sweeping it under the shelf. This was unnecessary, however. It immediately began to change color to match the stone floor. Relief bubbled up in his stomach. If it would  _stay_  hidden, then they'd be in the clear.

"Well, that was lucky," the witch said, staring down at her hands.

But Harry was already returning to his side of the room. Bottle after bottle, phial after phial, swam in front of his eyes. He was so solely focused on finding Ron's antitode, the potion that was save his life, that when the witch tapped him on the shoulder, he jumped a mile.

"Watch it!" she said fiercely. She held out a small phial with smoky blue liquid bubbling inside it. "I've got it."

Harry stared at it, slightly alarmed to feel his eyes sting.  _Save it for later,_  Harry told himself sternly.  _Save it for when Ron's got all his internal organs again._

"Let's go!" she said urgently, tugging at him. "We've only got two minutes to get out!"

Harry shook himself and practically flew out of the room, pulling her behind him, and speeding toward the stairs.

But they were already too late. They were only halfway to the entrance when their time ran out. Both their wands made the sound of a gong which only they could hear.

And they were trapped.

Ten terrible seconds pulsed by. The blood thundered through his brain. This was it. He'd be trapped here.

The spiders would come.

Then the witch grabbed his hand. Hers dripped with sweat. His was cold. His entire body felt cold. But then the witch was moving; her body was almost strolling. He forced himself to breathe with her. Harry watched as her shoulders moved up and down, he mimicked her smooth gait. He pasted a half smile on his face. There was no way to know if he looked like a patient from the Closed Ward getting out for a walk, but they strolled for minutes, hand in hand, and not one person stopped them.

"In here," the witch at his side murmured. She opened a door and pulled him inside.

It was a closet, dark and cluttered. It reminded Harry of his first bedroom. There was space to stretch his legs even.

"Do you think we—"

Harry closed his eyes. The witch was babbling.

"Don't you agree that—"

He was tired from his adrenaline surge. Harry knew he was being abominably rude, but he was trapped. He could die at any moment. And a man he thought of as a brother was dying.

Harry had to admit that, despite himself, the witch's (and he was going to have to start thinking of her as something else, a nickname, if only inside his head), chatter was keeping his mind off things like Ron dying, and being trapped at St. Mungo's, and actually having one hand wrapped around her ankle and the other around a small phial of the potion that would re-grow Ron's internal organs. It didn't make these things go away, just easier to bear.

 _Babble, maybe,_ he thought. _Or Chatter._

She poked him in the leg. "You didn't answer my question," she said, exasperated.

"I didn't know you stopped talking," Harry retorted.

"I've decided to call you  _Grumpy_ ," she said darkly, making a face at him. "As a friendly little nickname, you see," she hurried to clarify.

"Friendly?" Harry arched his brow, but couldn't help but smile.

"Perhaps  _Taciturn_  or  _Brooder_  would work better," she spoke as though he had not said anything. She affected a thoughtful mien, pursing her lips and stroking her chin. Despite their situation – and the fact that she now appeared to be insulting him – Harry was amused.

"I've been calling you  _Nosy_  in my head for the last hour," he told her, lying. A small part of him sort of wanted to offend her, but he was happy when her lips twitched.

Still, he was slightly afraid when she drew her wand. But instead of hexing him, she tapped him on both shoulders and then the top of the head. For a brief instant, he thought she was completely foolhardy, and had no concept of why Moody would allow her in the field. But when she withdrew her hand, Harry saw it tremble. And her jaw wasn't so much set as it was clenched.

"I dub thee  _Grumpy_ ," she said quietly. "Now. Are you going to answer my question?"

"What was it?" he asked begrudgingly. He'd already been forced to answer whether he preferred boxers or briefs, though, so he didn't feel it could get that much worse.

"If you were – do you know what the Mirror of Erised is?" she asked.

"Yes," he said slowly. It actually  _could_  get more personal.

"What would you see if you were standing in front of it?"

Harry wanted to blow off her question, but the more he looked at her face, the more he realized how wary and frightened she was. And she was talking to alleviate her fears, and it was distracting both of them. In a good way. Harry was almost painfully aware of every little sound; he didn't need to feel any more intense. He might explode.

But how the hell would he answer the question? An image of Ron rose up in his head. He wanted his best mate to be better; he did not want to see Ron's ghastly pale skin, or hear his thready, weakening voice. But was that his heart's desire?

Where would that leave all of them? Right back to where they were a week ago, before Ron had been cursed, with two Horcruxes left, but having no idea where or what they were.

Would he see himself destroying those unknown Horcruxes? Or show him finally defeating Voldemort? It seemed, in a way, that his heart's desire was so impossible that he couldn't even desire it, not anymore.  _Maybe seeing Voldemort's dead body,_  Harry thought.

"Socks," he said finally.  _If Dumbledore can lie about it, why can't I?_  "I'd see myself holding a thick pair of wool socks."

She knew he was lying. He knew that she knew he was lying. But she didn't challenge him or make a big deal about it. Amazingly, some of the icy fear in his belly that had nothing to do with being trapped at St. Mungo's, melted a little. Harry was just preparing himself to ask her the same question – really, it was only polite – when she made it easy on him.

"I think I'd see everything the way it used to be," she said quietly, looking down at her robes, and plucking at them with slim fingers. Her throat worked. Harry suspected that she might be struggling against Mad-Eyes safety charms, and might have revealed something that gave away her background or her name. "Just the way it used to be. Maybe even better," she finished.

Something in the slump of her shoulders and the sound of her voice told Harry that she felt the same way he did: weary. Like she was just as tired as he was. Tonight was the most he'd cared about a mission in months, because Ron's life was at stake, but a lot of the time, he just wanted to be at the finish line already, come what may. He was so  _tired_ of jumping over hurdles and whittling away at Voldemort in tiny increments.

"It just sometimes seems like it'll never end," she shrugged, echoing his thoughts. "And we'll never be able to just go home."

For the first time, it struck Harry that this witch ( _Nosy,_  he thought) was probably his age – maybe she'd even been in Dumbledore's Army. Which meant that she was young, and maybe even longed for her home the way he longed for the Burrow. For some inexplicable reason, he didn't want Nosy to feel the way he did. "We'll all be able to go home eventually, Nosy," he said robustly.

She snorted. "Nice try, Grumpy," she said dryly, hooking her hair over her ears. "But I've already learned that not everyone gets to go home, and even when they do, it's different. Now, I'm just hoping that when all is said and done, I'm not the only person who calls the same place home," she added.

Harry's gut twisted painfully. He had no clue what it was about this dark closet in the middle of enemy territory, but he was suddenly feeling things that he hadn't. Not for a while. The Burrow wasn't even his home, not really, but it was the closest thing he had to it. And already three people were missing – Fred and George had died, and Percy was estranged.

His hand dipped into his pocket, feeling around for the small phial of potion. He gripped it tightly with a palm that was suddenly slick with sweat. If Ron died…

He didn't want to lose any of the other Weasleys, but Ginny and Ron were the ones… he didn't even want to think about it. But he had to. Ginny was safe at Hogwarts, he knew, probably resenting the hell out of all of them, but if she'd joined the Order, it would've killed Mrs. Weasley. But Ron… Ron was dying, unless Harry got this potion to him on time.

Remarkably, he hadn't stopped to consider what it would mean if he didn't get to it in time. He took deep, even breaths.

"I want the same thing," he said quietly. Her thumb stroked his hand gently, and he stared at it. Hermione and Ron were always touching each other, comforting each other, and Harry had never really understood why. Now he did.

A small, warm hand closed over his forearm. Nosy had shifted her body to scoot closer to him without him even being aware of it. "It's personal, isn't it?" she asked, indeterminately-colored eyes wide in her subtly shifting face. "The potion. It isn't just a – a mission Mad-Eye sent you on, is it?"

He shook his head. "No. Not just another mission." To his own surprise, he found himself opening his mouth to tell her it was his best mate at stake; but Moody's enchantment prevented him from getting any words out.  _That's a bit frustrating,_  he scowled. Harry was so used to the privilege of knowing he was with Ron and Hermione that it was deeply annoying to have restrictions.

"I can't tell you why," she whispered. Harry looked over at her; her expression must match his. Struggling against Moody's charm, probably, though he didn't know why.

"Tell me why what?" Harry asked, confused.

"Why we're closer to victory," she said. "We  _are_  closer than we were before even last week—"

Harry knew this, already; they'd found a Horcrux last week, finally. But still. Harry didn't think that that kind of information was given to random members of the Order of the Phoenix. He eyed Nosy appraisingly; Moody must trust her an awful lot if she knew about it.

Mad-Eye did  _not_  hand out information like this like Chocolate Frogs.

"We are closer," she said again. "Listen – do you know Harry Potter?"

"Do you?" Harry countered.

"Sort of," she said, after a moment's hesitation. "I know enough about him to know that he isn't going to give up. He – he won't let You-Know-Who win."

Harry opened his mouth, but had no idea what to say.  _I'm tired of fighting. I want_   _to go home, too._ He wanted to tell her that he was only human, and he'd do the besthe could, but Voldemort might win, and it wasn't fair of her to assume that he could do it. But at the same time, it wasn't just Moody's charm that stilled his tongue, but it was an unexpected balm, to know that someone had such faith in him.

Blind faith, yes, but—

His thoughts were abruptly halted by a most unwelcome sound: heavy footfall outside their closet. Time seemed to slow, and Harry gripped his wand tightly.

Nosy's fingertips convulsed and dug into his skin. But a shushing sound told him that she too prepared to cast a spell as soon as the door opened.

His heart beat heavily in his chest. He could feel Nosy's increased heartbeat too, as she pressed tightly against him, whether for comfort or for better aim, he wasn't sure.  _If they open the door, they still can't hear us or see us,_  Harry reminded himself. But if whoever it was stepped inside just a little, they would know someone was there. And if whoever it was actually sought Harry and Nosy…

_Step. Step. Step._

Something clattered to the floor.

"Shit," someone muttered, muffled through the door. "Of all the god damn – I'm  _coming_! Hold your hippogriffs," he said in a low, resentful voice.

Harry's breathing slowed down as the footsteps retreated again. He glanced down at his watch. Two hours left until Moody promised to have the wards crossable again. His nerves gradually settled and he swallowed hard, turning his head to see if Nosy was all right.

She was very close. "That was…" she breathed.

But Harry kissed her before she could finish her sentence. He didn't know where the impulse came from, or why his brain had suddenly turned off. Perhaps it was a combination of danger, conversation, camaraderie, and the fact that she seemed to have faith in him. Or maybe it was just because she smelled good – Harry couldn't pinpoint the scent, that fell under 'defining characteristics' and Moody's charm took care of that, but he knew that he liked it, whatever it was.

After several seconds, and a shocked inhale of breath, she kissed him back, moving her lips underneath his. Nosy slipped her tongue into his mouth, and quite suddenly, they just weren't close enough. Harry tugged at her arm and pulled her into his lap, not caring that he was hard and surely she could feel it. He didn't even spare a thought to how his arousal had even happened without him even being truly aware of it.

She pressed herself against him and he swore.

They rubbed against each other almost violently. The air felt heavy and thick and there was a tightness in Harry's chest and back that hadn't been there. His hands slid up her sides up and down as they rocked against each other. Then they found her breasts, firm and full. He squeezed them gently, and she arched her back, moaning, and pulling her lips from his.

He licked her neck.

She whimpered, and then her hands came between their bodies and fumbled with the front of his trousers. Her fingers were not gentle, and he winced.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"Don't," he said. She finally got his trousers open. Harry wiggled, helping her free him, and he hissed when her hand wrapped around his penis, stroking it almost frantically.

He took his right hand off her breast, and without even thinking about it, slid her robes up, traced his finger along the silky smoothness of her thighs, and found the juncture of her thighs. She was hot and her knickers were damp and a dim part of Harry's mind was amazed that he could get a girl wet when he'd never done anything like this before.

Harry tried to concentrate on rubbing her and also on the way she was rubbing him, but found it difficult to do. Her thumb brushed against the tip of his penis and he shuddered. Nosy was telling him to do something, but he couldn't figure out what until she abruptly stood up halfway—

"No," he protested.

She didn't answer him but shuffled around. Harry heard a soft sound and he felt a twinge in his stomach when he heard soft cloth hit the floor.  _Please let that be her_   _knickers,_ he thought.

She straddled him again, and he could feel wet heat without a barrier. "Yes," he said.

"I've never—" she said breathlessly.

"Me either," Harry said. She wrapped her hand around him, and suddenly he was right there… pressing inward… now he was fully surrounded by warmth and wetness.  _Move,_ his body demanded. He rolled his hips.

"Hold still a second," she said, sounding uncomfortable.

It was agonizing to disobey what his body was ordering him to do. His breath came out in harsh pants. Nosy wrapped her arms around him, buried her head into his neck, and rocked against him. "You can move now," she whispered.

He groaned and thrust at the same time, instincts taking over as his hands went to her hips. But she didn't need any urging, not really. She rode him. Harry was a little embarrassed at how swiftly his orgasm was coming on him, even given the fact that sitting on the hard ground was not exactly comfortable. The pressure in his back built.

She leaned against him, forcing him to slide further down the wall, and she pressed down until Harry didn't think he could possibly get any deeper. She continued to move, and so did he, until his back felt like it was on fire from the effort of trying to keep it in, and breathy little cries escaped her mouth.

Nosy gasped and then he felt her  _clench_  around him. Harry's last thought before he exploded inside her was that he hoped that clenching feeling around his penis was what it felt like when a witch had an orgasm. He grunted and thrust up into her with abandon, letting her body milk him.

Once his body calmed down, a wave of disorientation hit him.  _I just had sex!_  But what was most stunning was that he didn't regret it. Maybe he would later, but as his breathing returned to normal, he was still inside Nosy, and he honestly couldn't remember the last time he felt this alive.

_Years._

"I can't believe that just happened," she said, sounding almost awed. Awed and strangely vulnerable.

"It's all right, Nosy," he said. And it really was all right, sort of. Or enough all right.

"Grumpy," she sighed.

"I don't feel so tired anymore," he admitted. It wasn't romantic, but he didn't feel romantic toward her. He felt… connected. The things that she'd said had resonated, and made him feel less lonely. And maybe that was pathetic, but… somehow through her words and maybe the sex, he'd… woken up.

"Me either," she said in a low voice. Harry got the feeling that she struggled with the regret-but-not-regret that he did. Slowly, deliberately, she slid off his lap and started groping around for her knickers.

Harry pulled his trousers back up.

Nosy sat down next to him, shoulder brushing against his. He could tell she was quivering. She drew her knees up to her chest and laid her head on them. Harry knew without seeing it or hearing it that she was crying. And for a brief, horrible instant he was transported back to his fifth year, and wondered if every girl he kissed would cry.

But then he realized that he wasn't that far from tears himself. It shocked the hell out of him – he couldn't remember the last time he cried. But he felt like he'd really lost something, beyond just his virginity, but that he'd gained something too. He didn't know which was worse.

Instead of giving in, though, he placed his hand on Nosy's back and rubbed circles.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I  _never_  cry," she said fiercely. "The last time was right after—" but her words cut off abruptly. "It's been a while," she told him, sniffling just a little.

Harry didn't know what to say, so he was quiet.

Four hours later, they were clear of St. Mungo's and standing once more outside the supposedly derelict building. Dawn was just beginning to touch the horizon, and the air had the hushed, still quality that came just before the sun. Harry gripped Nosy's hand tightly, and stole a look at her face. They weren't alone: Mad-Eye Moody, Severus Snape, and two others stood just across the street.

But her face did not register that she thought it odd that he was met with a welcoming committee, nor that the Order of the Phoenix had gone to great lengths to get them out of there. Harry knew that this was because of who he was, but Nosy didn't appear to realize this.

A part of him wanted her to know. They'd had sex with each other. Twice. And he wanted at least one of them to know the other's name. That way if the war ended, and they both survived, she could find him. If she wanted to. But Harry thought she might want to. Even if the first time had been heated and due to fear and hormones, the second time had been less feverish. Slower and gentler.

Harry definitely wanted to find Nosy again. After the war.

But there was no time to tell her so.

"Report," Mad-Eye said in his gruff voice. Snape and the others remained silent and stoic, hands clasped behind their backs.

Harry and Nosy tripped over themselves, explaining what had happened, why they had been too slow, how it had occurred that they had gotten themselves trapped. Harry had expected disappointment and annoyance from Mad-Eye. Instead, the old Auror's magical eye remained fixed on Harry's face, and he appeared to barely be listening.

"At least you got the potion," he said finally, looking at Nosy. He nodded crisply in her direction. "You may go."

"But I-"

"I have something to discuss with your temporary partner," Mad-Eye told her.

"I think you'd want me to-"

But Mad-Eye cut her off again, waving his arm impatiently as though shooing her away. "Later," he said heavily.

Nosy sighed, squeezed Harry's hand, and then slid hers out of his grasp. "I hope someone gives you lots of socks," she said, by way of farewell. Her ever-changing eyes were fixed on his.

"I hope you get to go home again," Harry said quietly. His face flushed, and he wanted to say something more, but couldn't. Not with four people around him. She gave him a lop-sided grin, spun on the spot, and Apparated away. Harry watched the empty spot for long seconds, wondering if he'd ever see her again, or find out her name.

"Who was she?" Harry asked.

Mad-Eye cut a glance at the people around them. "You know I'm not going to tell you that," he said evasively.

There was a strange flickering out of the corner of his eye, and Harry glanced at the two other people he didn't know, only to find that he did. Arthur and Bill Weasley suddenly stood before him, with odd expressions on their faces.

"Shouldn't we be going somewhere else?" Harry asked. It seemed too exposed here all of a sudden. He did not like the way everyone was looking at him, as though they had very bad news and had no clue how to tell him. He was even more deeply unsettled that Snape's expression was the same. His stomach curdled. "We have to - is it Ron? What's happened?"

"Ron can wait a few moments longer," Arthur said quietly.

"It's time you were told the truth," said Mad-Eye. He gestured toward Harry's forehead. "About your scar, and your connection to You Know Who."


	5. Escape

01 March 1999

Hermione rifled through all the papers and books she'd dumped out of her bag several days ago, when Ron had first been wounded.  _I'm not a Healer, I don't have_   _the training, all I have are a few measly books,_ Hermione thought desperately. Ronmoaned and shifted a little on the camp bed, face ghastly white.

_Think, think, think._

Ron looked sweaty, and when she touched him, he was clammy. Just to have something to do, she cast another charm that got rid of the sweat on his brow. Her fingers trembled, and she wondered how much longer she could do this. Harry was supposed to have been back hours ago! Dimly, she realized she should be worried for him... St. Mungo's was a death trap... but  _Ron was dying._  Unless-

The flap of the tent opened. "I've got it," Harry said.

Hermione's stomach plummeted, though it shouldn't. Harry was here, and she was already snatching the phial out of his hands. "Give - thank - here," she said, mind swirling and reeling. It came as a sort of relief that Harry was obviously as upset as she was. She was almost afraid to touch it, and she forced herself to grip it firmly, though she kept imagining it slipping out of her grasp and shattering on the floor. More attentive than she had been to anything before in her life, she uncorked it and let it drip into Ron's mouth.

She did not speak a word - and neither did Harry - as long minutes passed. Watching Ron carefully, she waited for a sign, any sign, that he was getting better, that the potion was taking effect. Harry was obviously too disturbed to watch... she saw him sit beside Ron's bed in an empty chair and put his head in his hands, gripping his untidy hair. "Come on, Ron," she said, her voice sounding sharp and shrill even to her own ears. "Wake up, open your eyes." She repeated this over and over.

Then - movement. Ron's hand moved over to hers, shaky and uncertain.

"Er-my-knee," he said.

"Ron," Hermione breathed.

His eyes cracked open. "So..."

"Yes?" She said eagerly. He sounded as though he was about to make a request, for water, a bacon sandwich, or possibly something else.

"You're so..." he said again. "Bossy."

Harry let out a laugh that sounded like a sigh.

"I am not," Hermione said automatically. But her fingers were threading through his hair and then she was kissing his face, mindful that he might be in pain, but hoping that her kisses didn't hurt. "You almost died," she said. "I can't believe it... I can't believe-" but she couldn't continue. Words failed her. "Harry..."

"I'm glad you - I'm glad you're all right, Ron," said Harry.

"St. Mungo's?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "St. Mungo's was fine," he said. "Listen-"

"But what took you so long?" Hermione burst out. "You were gone for hours longer-"

"I got trapped inside the wards," Harry told her. Something in the tone of his voice told her that he did not want to be pressed about it. "Had to hide in the closet until Moody could get us out again."

Hermione's mind skipped over the word  _we_  and thought of all of the implications-

"I'm fine," Harry said insistently, glaring at her.

"Can't believe... Moody let you go to St. Mungo's," Ron said. She eyed him critically, noting that his color was slowly returning to normal. It would take a while

at least a few days - before he was back to full health, but already he looked better... he did not look like he was dying anymore...

"I didn't give him a choice," said Harry.

"Imagine if they'd caught you in the Web," said Ron. His face was scrunched up, obviously making a huge effort just to stay awake. Hermione blew out a breath, tracing circles on the palm of Ron's hand. Tears dripped steadily down her face, luxuriating in the fact that this latest crisis was over; Ron would survive.

"They didn't catch me, though."

"But they... could have," said Ron. "I don't - want to lose another brother that way, mate."

"You won't," Harry assured him, though there was a strange note in his voice that Hermione did not understand. He caught her eyes, and jerked his head a little, a silent request for her not to push it. "Not that way. Not in the Web," he said.

"Not-"

"I wasn't going to mention this, but Moody says all of the Horcruxes have been found and destroyed. All but one, and we know where that one is. We're going to use it to lure You-Know-Who."

Ron's eyes popped open, and Hermione gaped at him. Chills ran up and down her spine, and every nerve was on high alert. " _What_?"

"It's almost over," Harry said simply. His eyes were narrowed as he looked at the wall of the tent. Hermione had never seen him look so strange before; his expression was entirely unreadable. Although, she had to admit that she'd have no idea what to think or feel if she were in his situation. "There's only one thing left to do."

_Kill Voldemort._

"You're going to bloody well wait for it until I'm back on my feet," Ron said. "If you leave me here to guard the tent while you go off to war, I'm going to-" but he did not appear to be able to find a suitable threat, and he subsided, though he still pointed a shaky finger at Harry.

"I already told Moody that," Harry said, face relaxing into a grin. "I want the two of you with me at the end."

"That's right, we've earned it," Ron said.

Without even caring that Harry was in the same room, Hermione lifted the bedclothes off of Ron and slid in next to him. Days without sleep were catching up to her quickly, and her brain felt fuzzy and dull with weariness.  _Ron is safe... Harry is_   _safe... the Horcruxes have been found... it's almost over... Ron is safe... Ron is safe..._

"I'll go keep watch," said Harry, already pulling out his wand.

"Harry," Hermione sat up for just a moment, covering her mouth helplessly, fearing that she might start to sob in earnest. "Thank you,  _thank you_ , for going to St. Mungo's... the potion... I don't quite know what I would have done... And you could have been killed..." Hermione knew that Harry would be uncomfortable with the acknowledgment, but she couldn't let it go unsaid.

"Don't thank me," he said, typical of him, already halfway out of the flap. "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I'd let him die... either one of you. Or any of the Weasleys, you know that."

"I know," she said, and snuggled back under the blankets once more.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

19 March 1999

A chill had fallen over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was difficult to tell whether this was a natural, physical cold, or if it came from the Dementors, or if everyone had it inside them. Whatever the case, the fires roared in the common rooms, despite the fact that it summer, it was more than halfway through June, and it shouldn't feel like winter or early spring.

Ginny huddled further under her bedclothes, pressing her cold nose into her pillow.

Days after the almost disastrous mission at St. Mungo's, the only thing Ginny was sure of was that she had to get the hell out. Out of Hogwarts and, with the way things were, out of Britain. Her stomach cramped painfully, and Ginny leaned over the side of her dorm bed, wondering if she was going to vomit. Again.

"You all righ', Ginny?" one of her dorm mates asked sleepily.

"Fine," Ginny said shortly.

"Th' Carrows get you again?" Demelza Robins spoke up.

Ginny grimaced, her body remembering the pain of the Cruciatus Curse. But the last time had been over a week ago, and whatever was wrong with her had nothing to do with Amycus Carrow. "No," she answered.

"Dunno why you always provoke them," Demelza sighed, rustling her bedclothes. Ginny could tell she was falling asleep again. Which was for the best. Ginny didn't want to talk to her anyway. Sure, Demelza was nominally a member of Dumbledore's Army, but she (and most of the others besides Luna) had decided that rebelling against the Carrows simply wasn't worth the punishments.

Ginny hadn't respected Demelza since the day the other former Gryffindor Chaser had handed her back the enchanted coin.

"Go to sleep," said Ginny.

She lay in bed and waited, as she had planned, until the other girls were in a sleep so deep that Ginny's departure would go unnoticed. But no matter how many times she'd snuck out of her dorm without the other two knowing, it was different this time. Ginny didn't know when -  _if_  - she'd come back. And once it was quiet, she slipped out of her bed, pausing while the world tilted drunkenly, and pulled out her wand.

Three minutes later, she had silently pulled on plain black robes over her pajamas, forced all of her scattered belongings into her trunk, shrunk her trunk and placed it in her pocket, and crept out of the door. She ghosted down the stairs, through the empty common room, and out the Fat Lady. Ginny did not pause to chat with the portrait, nor did she even look back.

The halls and corridors leading to the Room of Requirement were empty, thankfully. She stopped only once, holding herself up against the wall, pressing her forehead against the cold stone wall. A vague thought flitted across her mind, that it would be nice to just go lie down in the hospital wing, and let Madam Pomfrey take care of her, and not do this. She was tired. Her limbs were heavy, and her stomach rolled and pitched.

Ginny shook the thought off and pushed herself away from the wall with more force than was strictly necessary.

It wouldn't have worked, anyway. Moody's charm prevented her from telling Madam Pomfrey anything. After her first mission to St. Mungo's, she'd attempted to ask, in a roundabout way, if there were particular potions needed by the healer, to help students away from the watchful eyes of the Carrows.

Rounding one final corner, she stopped suddenly, seeing the lamplike eyes of Mrs. Norris. Ginny's stomach plunged at the sight of the cat, knowing that Argus Filch would not be far behind.  _Please don't let-_

But her unfinished wish went unanswered. Argus Filch leaned up against a suit of armor, skinny arms folded over his skeletal chest. His wrinkled face stretched in the kind of smile that infuriated Ginny.

"Tsk, tsk," he shook his head, pretending to be sad, but his voice was filled with glee. "The Carrows are going to be  _very_  disappointed that you're going to land in detention again."

Ginny knew this wasn't true. "The Carrows would be happy to punish me," she said firmly. "But I'm leaving."

"You're not going anywhere," Filch said, grin widening.

It struck Ginny in that moment that she was never coming back to Hogwarts.  _I_   _don't have to be polite to this arse,_ she thought, and she bared her teeth at him. Hisslipped off his face and retreated into confusion and wariness.

"And a Squib is going to stop me?" Ginny asked. Face blanching, Filch took a step backward. They'd let him get away with too much, had given him too much authority over them, and hadn't reminded him often enough that he didn't have the kind of tools that Ginny had. In an instant, all of her grievances against Filch - his tales, his delight, and his apparent indifference to the torture of students - rose up in her mind.

She raised her wand. Panic flickered across his face, but before he could run or shout for help, Ginny blasted him away from her and into the suit of armor. He and the metal clattered to the floor, clanging and groaning and swearing. Mrs. Norris yowled her displeasure, and jumped at Ginny. She slashed her wand to the side, and the cat fell to the ground, muzzled and tied.

It was a few short steps to the Room of Requirement, which was a good thing. Her legs were trembling, and she feared she might vomit again on the ground. The door appeared in the wall, and she reached out for the knob, but paused as her fingers brushed it.

_Good bye, Hogwarts._

She lingered for only a few moments longer before she steeled herself and opened the door. Inside, she found a small, bare room (a far cry from what she had last seen in it), with stone steps leading up to another door. A broom leaned up against the wall and (though Ginny could not see the source) warm light flickered around the room.

_Breathe._

Ginny walked as quickly as she could to the opposite wall, and yanked the other door open. Grabbing the broom, she headed into the dark tunnel that was the only way out of Hogwarts.  _Unless I want to fight my way out,_  Ginny amended. Another wave of nausea hit her as though underlining the fact that she was in no condition to fight.

The way seemed slower that night. Darker. Ginny had gone on several missions outside the walls of Hogwarts, but the long path to the Hog's Head had always blurred by. She'd always been mentally preparing herself for what she was about to do, or, on the way back, thinking about what she had just done. Last time she'd made this walk, she'd been reeling from nearly being trapped and killed at St. Mungo's... and the fact that she'd had sex with a stranger.

 _Don't think about Grumpy now,_ she told herself firmly.

When she was almost to the Hog's Head, she had another dizzy spell and had to prop herself up against the cold wall for several minutes, breathing through her nose. Eyeing her broom dubiously, she wondered if she'd be able to make it all the way to where she needed to go.  _I have to,_  Ginny thought, not liking the desperation that bubbled in her belly.

"You can just Apparate, Ginevra," she told herself. Her voice echoed oddly, muffled by the stone. Once, long ago, she had gone with her family to the seashore. Her mother had pointed at the water, and teased Ginny that if she'd only eaten her carrots that morning instead of feeding them to the garden gnomes, she'd be able to see France, it was that close. Ginny knew she'd be able to sit a broom long enough to make it across the channel. "You can Apparate from there," she added firmly.

 _Good bye,_ she thought again.


	6. Safe Haven

**Safe Haven**

24 June 1999

**HARRY POTTER DEFEATS YOU-KNOW-WHO!**

Jack Shepherd

 _Harry Potter, formerly known as Undesirable Number One, released Britain's Wizarding and Muggle communities alike from You-Know-Who. The Battle of Diagon Alley (as some witnesses are now calling it) began and ended rather quickly. There were few there who were not fighting (see "How Wizarding Economy Has Deteriorated," page 12), but_ The Daily Prophet _managed to interview several witnesses._

_"You-Know-Who brought a few Death Eaters," said Mafalda Hopkirk, Head of the (Ministry Department). She had gone to Diagon Alley in order to buy several protective amulets that are said to ward away both werewolves and feral cats, and ended up being present for one of the greatest Wizarding events in modern history. "I didn't see everything, mind," she added. "But I recognized Harry Potter straight away. I thought - this was it, and it was. Potter let himself be hit with the Killing Curse, and not a minute later, Fiendfyre attacked You-Know-Who and he was gone."_

_Mrs. Hopkirk is recovering in the newly reopened St. Mungo's from being stunned. While the details may not be absolutely correct -_

_The Daily Prophet is uncertain of the possibility of a wizard not only surviving the curse once, but twice - the end result is the same: You-Know-Who is dead, and his followers have plunged into hiding (see "Death Eaters and the Government," page 8)._

_Mr. Potter is unavailable for comment, though reliable sources claim he is recovering from his injuries in the hospital wing at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_HPHPPHPHPPHPHPHPHPHPHP_

25 June 1999

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

I can't believe this long war is finally over, and I'm glad that you two, Ron, Bill, Charlie, Harry, and Hermione survived the final battle. I really wish that I could have been there.  _Really_  wish. I'm sure you have already noticed that I'm not at Hogwarts. I had to get out of Britain. There was nothing I needed there.

Love from,

Ginny

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

06 July 1999

Harry blinked slowly awake. Immediately overwhelmed by the blinding, white light, he squeezed his eyes closed again. Memory came flooding back: the Killing Curse, talking with Dumbledore, hearing that he didn't have to be dead, lying on the ground at Voldemort's feet—

"Who lit me on fire?" he croaked.

"Harry!" Hermione squeaked, startled.

"He's awake!" Ron shouted.

Harry chanced opening his eyes again. It wasn't quite as painful as it had been last time. Experimenting, he shifted himself on the bed. His limbs felt drained of energy, and stirred almost feebly. He felt like an old man. "How long?" he asked, tongue thick in his mouth.

Hermione, now sobbing, attempted to answer. It took her several tries. "Weeks,"

she managed finally. "Two weeks."

"Don't cry," said Harry. "We won, didn't we?" he asked, suddenly uncertain. He recognized exactly where he was: the hospital wing at Hogwarts. How many times had he been trapped in one of these very same beds due to some injury or other? And if he was back at Hogwarts—

"Yeah, we won," said Ron. His face was very pale beneath his freckles. "Harry, I'm the one who lit you on fire – I swear, I had no idea that you were – were alive, and I was so  _furious_  with V-Voldemort—"

The fact that Ron could say Voldemort's name without much fear told Harry more than anything that the Order of the Phoenix had unbelievably won the war. "Don't," Harry shook his head. Little rockets of pain burst behind his eyes. "I'm alive, aren't I?"

"Barely," Ron said in a low voice.

Harry might have said something more, to reassure Ron, but stampeding footsteps alerted him to the fact that others were coming. They edged blurrily into his vision; most of them had red hair. Harry tried to count them, but that made his head swim; he thought he could see Remus Lupin and Tonks with them.

"You're awake!" Mrs. Weasley said, voice shaking.

"You gave us quite a fright," Mr. Weasley's deep voice rumbled in his chest. Harry remembered the last time he'd spoken to Ron's father: the man had told him he was a Horcrux.

"I knew 'e would survive," Fleur said.

"If You-Know – if  _Voldemort_  couldn't kill him, then Ron certainly couldn't," said Bill.

Harry squashed the urge to grin. The last time he'd woken up, it had been the day of the final battle. He'd been alone, and his stomach had been cramping with the knowledge of what he must do. Now he was surrounded by his family. Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Bill, Fleur, Remus, Tonks, and even Charlie—

"Where's Ginny?" Harry asked sharply, his stomach flooding with ice, reeling with his sudden change of mood. The absence of the twins – and even Percy – was bad enough, but what if she'd been killed and—

"Ginny has decided that she doesn't want to be a part of this family anymore," Bill said in an ugly voice.

No one refuted him.

"What?" Harry said blankly.

"That isn't quite right," Mrs. Weasley said half-heartedly.

"I know you want to believe the best, Mum, but she cleaned out her half of the twins' accounts, and took off on a  _trip around the world,_ " Bill said angrily. Harry glanced over at Hermione, wondering what the hell had happened while he'd been sleeping. But Hermione just shrugged, a helpless look crossing her face.

"I'm sure this last year has been hard on her," Mrs. Weasley said in a subdued voice. Harry had the feeling that this was not the first time this topic had been under discussion for the Weasleys. But it was new to him, and he was still shocked.

"She just  _left?_ " Harry asked.

"And wrote as a dodgy little note," said Ron.

"I expect she's angry with me—" Mrs. Weasley began.

"We were protecting her," Ron said in a hard voice. Harry blinked rapidly; Ron usually got along with his little sister quite well. " _Protecting_  her, and she had a temper tantrum and left, Harry. Took her share of Fred and George's money and... just left."

"Ron," Mr. Weasley said quietly. "That's enough."

"It isn't bloody enough," Ron said angrily. "Moody's dead – so is Susan Bones and Terry Boot – Neville's lucky he's alive, _Tonks_  got a really shitty deal, and  _Ginny_  is acting like a selfish, spoiled little—"

"Moody's dead?" Harry asked, feeling the room tilting around him. "And  _shit_ , Ron, what the hell...? What the hell happened to Neville?"

His incoherence stopped the fight mid-word, and Ron looked apologetic. "Neville had to hold the Enforcer compound... keep all those little assholes from joining the fight - they tortured him," he added. "And I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just broken everything like that..." he scrubbed his face. "Yeah, Moody, he died. He took Nagini with him, though," he added, as though that helped. "Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Michael Corner probably won't make it... there were about fifteen others I didn't even know that fought for us—"

"We didn't know them thanks to Moody's  _charm_ ," Hermione said.

"Don't talk to me about that damn charm," Lupin growled angrily. At Harry's questioning look, he gestured toward Tonks, whose lips were pressed tightly together. "Moody died, but his charm didn't. And we have no idea how to lift it, so she's incapable of talking about being a member of the Order."

Harry was confused at this. "How come you – we – can, then?" he asked, his brain trying to focus on at least one thread of the conversation. Moody, Susan, and Terry – all dead. Ginny was gone. And Tonks was apparently still under the influence of a dire charm.

"Mad-Eye took the charm off of everyone who was at the final battle," said Hermione. "Remember? But Tonks was with Teddy, so he never lifted it off of her."

"And it was quite a powerful charm," said Lupin, folding his arms. "If I'd known, I never would've agreed to do it – or let Tonks do it."

"I'm working on figuring out a way to break it, though," Bill said hurriedly. "It's just... more difficult than I thought it would be."

Harry lifted his arm slowly – it felt like it was full of lead – and pressed it over his eyes. His stomach was rolling around, and his mind was trying to deal with everything. But it seemed almost impossible. Blackness edged his vision, and sparkling darkness threatened to cover him.

Hating how weak he felt, he forced himself to talk. "Funerals?" he asked.

"They've already happened," Mrs. Weasley said gently. "Everyone wanted to wait, but..."

"Right," Harry said wearily. Suddenly, he just wanted to go back to sleep, and not have to hear about everything. He wished he didn't have to hear about more deaths, or other ways that lives had been turned upside down. Could Tonks even talk at all? Or had Moody's charm effectively muted her.

"I'm fine," Tonks said quietly, as though reading his thoughts. "It's inconvenient"—Remus made a noise like an angry bear—"but it isn't  _that big of a_   _deal,_ " she said loudly.

Harry nodded, wondering if there was a polite way to ask everyone to leave. Where was Madam Pomfrey when he needed her?

"I think Harry needs his rest," Mrs. Weasley said firmly. She raised her wand and a tall, bright green bottle flew toward him. "Drink this, please, yes, all of it."

The Weasleys and Lupin and Tonks murmured their good-byes as he drank down the vile tasting potion. They promised to return as soon as he woke up again; Harry was grateful for that, but he was conversely glad that they were leaving.

All but two of them.

"We'll just stay until you fall asleep," said Hermione, patting his hand.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPH

10 July 1999

Neville wiped his shaking, damp palms on his second best robes, and glanced around nervously. The Minister for Magic had a spacious waiting area outside his offices, and Neville was currently the only occupant except for a dour-faced witch that used her wand to file a series of reports.

 _Don't be so damned nervous, for Merlin's sake,_ he told himself nervously. But eversince the battle at the Enforcer's compound (which had happened almost simultaneously to the others' battle with Voldemort himself), Neville's nerves had been shot.

The Cruciatus Curse did that to a person, as Neville knew very well. Thirteen minutes of awful, lacerating pain, and he woke up with nightmares almost every night. It was a small mercy, Neville privately thought, that he had been bound to silence by Moody's charm. That way he didn't get tempted to make a complete fool of himself by crying on someone's shoulder.

His parents had been under the Cruciatus for hours, had had their minds destroyed by the never-ending pain. Thirteen minutes was nothing compared to that.

When the Minister's voice boomed out, Neville jerked.

Hiding his trembling hands in the folds of his robes, he made his way toward Kingsley Shacklebolt's office. John Dawlish knocked him in the shoulder, on his way out, and sneered at Neville.

"Traitor," Dawlish spat.

Neville stared at his retreating back, wondering if he ought to be careful if he ever went out alone. The former Enforcers – those who had not been killed – were not happy that their downfall had come from within the compound. Well. He'd be certain to take all necessary precautions.

Stomach aching with nerves he knocked twice on the Minister's door.

"Come in, Mr. Longbottom," said Minister Shacklebolt. He looked very tired, Neville noticed. He leaned back in his chair behind the huge, mahogany desk; his broad face was lined with weariness.

"Reporting, sir," said Neville.

"So I see," said the Minister. He leaned forward and steepled his fingers. "But we both know that you don't really need to be here, don't we? There's no reason for a member of the Order of the Phoenix to be called into account for actions done as an Enforcer."

Neville opened his mouth, but the dam in his mind prevented him from saying a word. Instead of letting frustration overcome him, he just shrugged.

"Ah," the Minister said. "I'd hoped that Moody would've at least taken the charm off of you before the battle. I can see our interview won't go very far," he added wryly. "Tonks is just the same, although she's quite able to complain about it. And Remus acts as her voice well enough."

Neville did not know what he could say, so he did not even try. The Minister seemed to expect this.

"Bill Weasley is working out how to break the charm," he announced. "It's a tricky bit of magic that Moody wrought, and Weasley's having a devilish time."

"That's too bad for Tonks," Neville murmured. The Minister's eyes swung back to his, sharp and piercing. Shacklebolt seemed to guess that Neville did not want to speak of his time with the Enforcers, and that he almost hoped that a way to break the charm would never be found.

His palms were clammy again, and he had started to sweat.

"I have decided that all members of the Order of the Phoenix who wish to become Aurors will not have to endure training," said Shacklebolt, after clearing his throat. "I know Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are going to join up, and I'm sure you—"

"No," said Neville with more force than he meant. "No, thank you," he amended. His hands were shaking so hard that he was afraid it was visible, even through his robes. He glanced out the window. The sunny sky revealed that Magical Maintenance was pleased to not be under the boot heels of Death Eaters any longer. Neville took a deep breath. "I wanted to be a magical herbologist," he said painfully. "I wanted to work with plants."

Shacklebolt nodded once, apparently unperturbed. "Well," he said. "If you should change your mind…"

The Minister let the sentence dangle. Neville thought about how he wanted to hear the wind rustle the leaves of trees he'd planted with his own shaky hands – the seedlings wouldn't fault him a tremble. But as the way things stood, he didn't want to listen to spells and curses rush past him; he didn't think he could hold his own in a duel any longer.

"I'll keep you in mind," Neville said. "Thank you."

"No need for thanks," said the Minister. "In fact… in about two weeks, the wizarding world is going to thank  _you_  for your service. You're to be awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, along with Harry, Ron, and Hermione."

Neville stared at him blankly, blinking.  _The Order of Merlin, First Class? First?_  Unbelievably, he felt a little surge of excitement, and couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "Wow," he said. " _Wow._ My Gran is going to be really happy."

"She should be very proud of you," the Minister said. "And I'm sure your parents would be thrilled to know the man their son grew up to be."

Neville took his leave after murmuring words of thanks. He was still incredulous, and in shock that he was to be awarded the same award that Harry was. The entire the world knew that Harry had taken the Killing Curse in order to defeat Voldemort. And even if Neville never raised his wand to duel again, and if he raised  _Mimbulus_   _Mimbletonia_ instead of fighting against darkness… maybe he had already doneenough.

_I can't wait to tell Gran about the award!_

_HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP_

12 July 1999

**NEW MINISTER FOR MAGIC MAKES BOLD, CONTROVERSIAL MOVE**

Claire Bennet

_Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt made a surprising decision today that shocked his advisors, and several reinstated members of the Wizengamot. It was announced several days ago that the Enforcers were being disbanded, and the Auror_ _Department would be reformed under the leadership of war veteran Nymphadora Lupin, age 27. Coming at the heels of that shift back to normalcy, however, the Minister for Magic declared that several former Enforcers would be allowed to continue on as Aurors._

_"It's a stupid idea," says Cursor Babbling, of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "I say we should get rid of all the bad seeds. No one wants anyone who served You-Know-Who to remain at the Ministry, especially in the Auror Department." This seems to be the prevailing opinion. Babbling, 49, and others, are wary of allowing former Enforcers to be granted any sort of power._

_Nymphadora Lupin, who is the new Head of the Auror Department, however, fully supports the new Minister. "The fact is, without allowing some Enforcers to remain, the Auror Department would be severely handicapped by lack of numbers," she stated. "It is the Minister's opinion that this move is necessary."_

_Not all Enforcers will be invited to remain, however; many of them will, in fact, be tried by the Wizengamot for crimes against Muggles and wizards. The former Enforcers that will serve as Aurors are generally those who joined the Auror Department prior to 1997. "Even they will be demoted to Junior Auror level," promised Minister Shacklebolt, "and will be on probation for one year."_

_Junior Undersecretary Percival Weasley also claims that the former Enforcers will be closely monitored. "Of course I can't tell you what precautions will be taken," he said, when pressed for further answers. "That would be (continued on page 2)_

_HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP_

15 July 1999

Ron couldn't help feeling guilty every damn time he looked at Harry. His skin was just starting to heal, and the raw pink of it looked quite painful.  _At least he wasn't_   _disfigured,_ thought Ron.

"Your turn," said Ron gruffly. Harry was staring out the window of the Burrow, a little smile playing on his lips. Since Ron had no idea why the hell his best mate was smiling, he ignored it.

Harry's chess pieces jeered at him as he made a move without thinking.

"What are you thinking about?" Ron asked.

"A girl," Harry said immediately.

Ron's eyebrows flew up. When had Harry possibly had time to meet and start to fancy a witch? He'd been very private at Hogwarts, and the only girl at the Burrow was Ron's mother.  _Ginny_  should have been there, but apparently she didn't need anything in Britain.

"I don't believe you," Ron said irritably. He hated thinking about Ginny. Whenever he did, it made him want to hex her. The Ginny he knew and loved wouldn't have up and left just because she hadn't gotten her way.  _Damn her,_  thought Ron.

"Just because you're irritated with Ginny—"

"Irritated?  _Irritated_?" Ron interrupted. "Bloody hacked off, is more like it," he muttered.

"Still," Harry said, pointing at him. "That doesn't mean that I can't think about a girl who isn't Ginny."

"When did you even have time to meet a girl?" Ron challenged.

"At St. Mungo's. You know – when we needed that potion for you," said Harry, shrugging his shoulders. "Moody made me work with her, and…"

"And?" Ron said, suddenly interested and feeling like grinning. The change in mood made his head spin a bit. The idea of Harry -  _Harry!_ , who was usually so focused and intense – being distracted by a witch during any sort of mission was hilarious.

"Well…" Harry turned a bright shade of red. "You know that I – we – were trapped at St. Mungo's. We were in a closet and—"

"Did you snog her?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I couldn't help myself," Harry said helplessly. "She saved your life, you know," he added. "And – I was really condescending to her, and she taught me a lesson. That was before the closet, while we were getting your potion, and I told her if she was afraid, she could stay behind. Then she basically told me to stick my wand up my—"

"Yes, I can see why this is obviously the perfect woman," Ron said dryly, recovering from his surprise at Harry's flow of words. He must've been keeping all these thoughts really pent up since he woke up, and was now at the verge of some sort of breaking point.

Harry picked up one of his pieces, ignoring the way it shouted imprecations at him. Ron figured they were done with their chess match. It was fine with him. Harry always lost, anyway, and wasn't much of a challenge.

"She asked me what I would see in the Mirror of Erised – she asked me a  _lot_  of personal questions, and I nicknamed her Nosy," he said, speaking very quickly. "I think I told her I'd see socks—"

"Socks?" Ron asked, snorting. "You are  _so_  weird."

"That's what Dumbledore told me he'd see," Harry said defensively. "But I might've told her I'd see a motorbike, I can't really remember. But she told me that she would see her home, the way it used to be. I dunno why I did it, but I kissed her, and then…"

Ron gaped at Harry. Not that it surprised him that his best mate had been attracted to a woman with an obviously unique blend of strength and vulnerability. Harry must've found her irresistible. Hermione had told him that a long time ago as her reasons for thinking that Harry and Ginny would probably fall for each other at some point. But that had been before the letter that revealed how cold and unfeeling Ginny was.

"—and then we did it again, and it was just as brilliant as the first time—"

" _What?_ " Ron said, shocked. So lost in his thoughts, he'd completely missed part of what Harry had said. But he'd heard enough. "You  _shagged_  her?"

"Well… yeah," Harry said uncomfortably, obviously wishing that he had not told Ron this. "Damn that potion your mum gives me," he said grumpily, resting his head against the pillow. "It makes my head spin, and I keep saying stuff – I told Hermione that her hair needed a brush this morning…"

Ron was still stuck on the shagging. "You shagged her? At St. Mungo's? In a closet?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Don't make it sound so dirty," Harry said sharply. "It wasn't – it was – I just – I don't think I could've… dealt with the fact that I was a Horcrux without it. It was important, and I don't regret it."

"I wouldn't have wanted to think I was going to die a virgin either," Ron said fairly. "I wondered how you were able to do it; I should've known you'd had sex."

"I want to find her," said Harry, ignoring Ron. He laughed. "I mean – I don't know her name, what she looks like, or… anything. But I want to try anyway."

"It shouldn't be that hard," said Ron. "We can just take out an ad in the  _Daily_   _Prophet_ … Who Was in the Closet With Harry Potter?"

Harry threw his pillow at Ron, laughing. Ron threw it back at Harry. "It's at moments like these that I really miss the twins," Ron said, feeling a wistful little pang. "I'm woefully inadequate when it comes to teasing… Closet Girl would've been prime fodder for the twins."

"I think you're doing well enough on your own," Harry said wryly.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

17 July 1999

_Dear Ginny,_

_I do wish you would answer our letters, love, and that you would come home. You've always loved the Burrow, haven't you? We can finally go back there now; it was a little worse for wear, but your father and brothers straightened it right up. It's home again, but we're missing you desperately. You, Fred, George, and Percy. I know you're very angry with us, but we were only trying to protect you. I'm not sure if I would've been able to go on knowing that my youngest child and only daughter was in mortal danger - please forgive me for this selfishness._

_You may not think that you need anything in Britain, but there are several people in Britain who need you. Ron will receive the Order of Merlin, First Class. Harry, Hermione, and Neville Longbottom are also going to get it. I know you don't know what Horcruxes are - they're objects that Voldemort used to stay alive and somewhat immortal - but everyone who destroyed one is to receive the First Class award. Neville is receiving it because he held off the Enforcers from being able to join Voldemort during the Final Battle._

_There are countless reasons why you should come home: to help Neville, who really needs a friend; to watch your brother receive the highest honor wizardkind can get; to live in the Burrow again because it's your home. Please come back to us._

_Love,_

_Mum_


	7. Yuletide Curses

YULETIDE CURSES

21 December 1999

**SIX MONTHS AND BEYOND**

Peter Capulet

_Six months after the defeat of You-Know-Who, and the Wizarding World has changed quite a lot, and yet, not enough._

_The Daily Prophet remains located in a subbasement of the Ministry of Magic, though we are looking to find new premises in Muggle London. This is quite a departure from our former location in Diagon Alley before the new regime insisted on such close supervision that we made the move to the Ministry of Magic. But don't you worry, gentlewizards and witches, we will continue to report the news of our world – we simply need a cheap location from which to do so. As rebuilding efforts continue in Diagon Alley (more on that later), it is easier to find a building to lease in the Muggle world._

_The former Enforcer Academy in the North Sea is still running, though Kingsley Shacklebolt has control of it, and it is firmly wrestled away from the control of the Death Eaters. "We have dreams and plans for the Academy," Shacklebolt, 37, told us during an informal interview. "The International Confederation of Wizards has looked over it, and we can confirm that we are looking into continuing the rigorous Auror training – this time, with an eye to stamp out darkness, rather than foment it." It has long been an interest of the Ministry to encourage international cooperation, and the new Auror Academy – which may be chosen as the site to train an international team of wizards – may be just the way to do so._

_Another form of international cooperation shown in the past weeks? Delegations from the United States, Canada, Brazil, and Italy arrived last month, and we can finally reveal the nature of their mission. "They came to make a donation of goodwill," a representative of the Ministry, Percy Weasley, told us. "They knew we were having trouble rebuilding Diagon Alley out of the rubble, and together, they donated enough to make our financial worries disappear." This news could not have come at a better time. Regular readers of the_ Daily Prophet  _will remember the outcry when it was revealed the Ministry could not seize the funds of convicted Death Eaters and use those galleons for necessary repairs. Our friends from around the world made it unnecessary to rewrite wizarding law, and set a dangerous precedent. We have it from a likely source that Diagon Alley will reopen at the beginning of February._

_If only we had such good news regarding St. Mungo's. We have it on good authority from a curse-breaker who refuses to be named that breaking the Web remains a top priority for every curse-breaker in the country. "We're at it night and day, mate," said the curse-breaker, who met me for a pint at a Muggle pub. "We've barely enough time to hang up our cloaks at home before we're at it again. Devilish tricky, it is" Don't we know it? St. Mungo's, as we all know, has been impenetrable to wizards, witches, healers, and staff since the day everyone already inside made the decision to transfer the wounded to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_I think I speak for everyone at the_ Daily Prophet  _when I say that I wish everything were simpler. You-Know-Who is gone, defeated by Harry Potter, but the devastation he wrought during his time in power has long-lasting consequences. A battered magical society asks, "When will it be truly over? When will we be home?"_

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

23 December 1999

"I just want to  _see_ the new premises," Hermione said for the fifth time. She was excited enough that she was practically skipping – and not just because that was what it took to keep up with longer-legged Ron Weasley. "The premises of the Daily Prophet has never been located anywhere near anything Muggle," she continued. She thought she heard Harry groan, but honestly, this was  _interesting._ Besides, he still had issues with his wounds from the last battle. That was why he was groaning, not because he wasn't interested. Hermione nodded firmly. "When the publication first began, it was located in the sitting room of Mr. and Mrs. Hopkirk – oh, do you suppose Mafalda Hopkirk was related to them? – in Godric's Hollow-"

"Godric's Hollow?" Harry cut in.

"Yeah, mate, it was probably close to the ruins of your mum and dad's house," Ron said helpfully.

Hermione smacked him. "Insensitive, Ron!"

"Oh, that's nice," Ron said, rubbing his chest. "Hit the bloke who recently had no internal organs. Why don't you kick Harry in his leg while you're at it?"

Harry stuck out his leg. "Here, Hermione," he said. "Go ahead."

Hermione could not help but laugh a little. The truth was, all three of them had scars and nightmares: Harry and his leg, Ron and his brush with an excruciating death, and Hermione had a horrible scar from elbow to wrist. Admittedly, that was not  _technically_ a war wound, but she pretended it was. Ron and Harry backed her up, as they always did. The nightmares were worse than the physical realities of war, truth be told. She glanced up at Ron's face; a Muggle car drove by, making it easy to see. When they were younger, his face would relax into a smile when he was distracted – Quidditch usually filled his head. Now, after the war, it tightened into grim lines whenever he thought he was not being watched.

"Stop thinking about it," Harry ordered.

"Thinking about what?" Hermione demanded.

"You know what. Whenever you look up at Ron, you-"

"We're here," Ron said shortly.

It was located on a quiet lane, and Hermione saw instantly how well-suited it was. A few streets over, and it would be located in what the Muggles called "slums". But here there were lawyers' offices, a few secondhand stores, a pub, and a flower shop. "Yes, I think this will do quite nicely," said Hermione. "It's perfect, really."

Harry grunted. "Are there any wards? We're not too far from St. Mungo's."

Out of habit, Hermione looked around for curious onlookers before she brought out her wand. She performed the enchantment. A smoky red mist appeared like a sudden fog, coalesced, and then drifted to the pavement. Where once there was nothing in front of the new Daily Prophet offices, there was now a clear line separating it from Muggle London. Hermione looked closer, then stepped away. "I'd want Bill to look over it," she said, "but the wards are rudimentary at best." Harry's reminder made her wary, however, and she was loathe to cross the barrier.

The three stood there in silence for a few moments.

Often, when Hermione was drifting off to sleep, she listed all the wards she knew of. Ron called this a quirk. Hermione knew it was the way she remembered those who had been tangled up in it. It was a travesty, still, that St. Mungo's – the greatest wizarding hospital in the world – was silent and empty. Bill and other curse-breakers were working furiously around the clock to break down the terrible Web, but all these months later, it had yet to be done.

"Why don't we head on over to that pub?" Ron lifted an arm and pointed across the street. "Maybe after a couple of pints we won't be so damned moody."

Hermione had her misgivings, but let Ron lead her across the street, Harry right behind them. The pub was cheerily lit, and decorated rather outlandishly for Christmas. It was as though Father Christmas himself had come into the pub, gotten merrily drunk, and spread cheer willy-nilly through the entire building. Snowflakes decorated the windows, red and green bulbs hung from the door, and the all-too-lifelike reindeer head greeted them with "Happpppppppppppy Christmas" sign hung around its severed neck. Hermione pressed her free hand to her heart – it felt rather light all of a sudden.

"Rather lot of Muggles in here," Ron observed.

"I think everyone had the same idea you did," said Harry.

It was difficult to talk in a sea of people waiting for a seat, and Hermione let her eyes wander. A rather loud bulletin board was chock full of notices and such: "Flatmate wanted, 3 bedroom, 2 bath", "Lost Dog", "DOCTOR CAPALDI'S CARNIVALE EXTRAORDINAIRE: THREE NIGHTS ONLY, GET YOUR TICKETS". "Look," Hermione bumped Ron's arm. "Did you know that carnivals transported loads of goods for-"

"Quiet a moment, I'm trying to find a path through this mess," Ron, who didn't like crowds in between him and his beer, said. Hermione smirked and said nothing. It took longer than she expected; Hermione managed to memorize the carnival information, the mobile number of the person missing the dog, and the address of the flat. She was just starting up a new mental list – Chores to be Done Before Christmas – when a spot at the bar opened up. Ron shoved them through, and rounded up three swivel-backed chairs, while Hermione admired the length of his arms.

She squeezed his muscle. "You've got quite the reach, you know that, don't you?" She said in approval. "Thanks, I needed to sit."

"We'll have three – I don't know," Ron said to the scruffy, older bartender. He was rather large, and had a mustache that looked like the handlebar on Sirius's old motorbike. "What's good here?"

"Everything's good here, mate," the bartender said with an excess of cheer. "And you"-he pointed at Ron-"drink free. Redheads don't pay when I'm behind the bar, that's the rule."

Ron, stunned, only stammered.

Harry, who was used to being given free things, stepped in smoothly. "We'll just have ale, please," he said. "Plenty of it."

Three ales were set before them with a swiftness that Honeydukes could only hope to replicate – quite a feat, considering the bartender was a Muggle. "Me name's Swishbaggle," he said to Ron, "If you're still here when I go on my break, just tell the next gent I said you drink free. Remind 'im about the redhead rule."

"Clearly, the Weasleys have not been drinking in the right establishments," said Ron, when Swishbaggle left. "Where has this Muggle been all my life?" Hermione smiled, reached out, and played with the errant lock of red hair hanging over his ears.

"You deserve a free drink now and again," Hermione said. "Or always."

"I agree," Harry said quietly.

Ron turned wide blue eyes on them. "You don't think it's a bit odd? What if he's got a hate for redheads, and the ale's poisoned?"

"Because that's likely," Harry snorted.

Ron brought his wand out. "I'm checking," he said grimly. "I'm fond of my innards, I don't want them going on walkabout again."

"Be careful," she hissed, and looked around anxiously. Other than an odd look on Swishbaggle's face, no one in the cramped little pub appeared to have noticed the big red-haired man tapping a wand on the bar.  _Perhaps Swishbaggle is just odd,_  she decided, when the man went into the back and came out with a bucket of sliced limes. By the time she was done with the safety precautions, Ron had cast the spell, decided the ale was just fine, and had tucked his wand away.

He smirked at her.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him.

"Merlin, you two just need to get married already," Harry said, hiding a grin with his pint.

Hermione smacked him. "We'll get married when we're good and ready, and not a moment earlier. We'll both have steady employment, and be able to make a down payment on a cottage – I do  _not_ want to start my married life in a flat. I'd say we are three years, perhaps two if we really push for it, from the goal. And  _then_ we'll get married."

"What she said," said Ron. "But if I asked her to marry me tomorrow, she would."

Hermione flushed. "Probably," she admitted. Harry laughed.

"Enough taking the mickey out of us," Ron grinned at Harry. "What happened to looking for your closet girl?"

"I do look for her! Every chance I get. Don't you remember at that stupid soiree Kingsley made us go to? I asked fourteen different women if they knew what the Mirror of Erised was." Harry's jaw tightened. "I have no clue where to even start doing more than that..." he said softly. "Moody didn't keep any records at all, he kept it all up here"-Harry tapped his forehead, right near his scar—"so I have no way of finding other Order members who can't come forward because of the charm, you know that. I keep thinking if I could just get into St. Mungo's-"

"-you and me both," interrupted Ron. "The entire wizarding world wants to get into St. Mungo's."

Glass broke. Hermione drew her wand without even thinking. Battlefield reflexes had saved her life a time or two. Movement on her right and left said that Harry and Ron were the same way. All three of them stared at the bartender, who had dropped the glass, and was now gaping at them.

Swishbaggle licked his lips. "Did you say... St. Mungo's? Is that anything like – like Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

Hermione's brows tightened. "You're a Muggle, though," she breathed.

"My daughter," Swishbaggle said simply, tears standing in his eyes. "My daughter, he's – he's different. Like you, I think."

The story was told in a hushed voice. Eleven year-old Finnella Swishbaggle received her letter to Hogwarts with a personal visit from a professor ("She was tall, looked kind of... pruny," said Swishbaggle. "Musta been Professor McGonagall," said Ron), who warned the family that it was unsafe for Finnella not to be trained to use her magic, and equally unsafe for her to go to Hogwarts. As a family, they decided Finnella would go to Hogwarts ("We very nearly never saw her again," Barrow said tearfully. "We thought we was doing the right thing – we knew she were different, y'see, always makin' things float and whatnot."). Professor McGonagall fixed Finny up with a new family tree ("She hadta make sure we weren't on it," said Swishbaggle sadly.), and she left for Hogwarts. Her parents did not hear from him until he stumbled into the family home, cold, shaking, and terrified.

"We got outta here at that point," Swishbaggle finished. "Me sister's still in the family business – fishing, you know – and we got on a boat to Greece - well, we didn't sail the whole way. Finny were terrified and wouldn't talk about how she got outta Hogwarts, but we found some bits of red hair on her cloak. Said it belonged to the one who saved her. That's why, when I started up this place, I let every redhead drink for free."

Hermione sat, stunned. It amazed her how much the war affected everyone. The last thing on her mind when she'd walked in was finding a Muggle man who'd had to flee because his young daughter was a witch. "That's... amazing," she said, breathless. Tears that matched the bartender's sprang into her eyes. "How wonderful that your family is safe. Finny is safe, isn't she?"

"Oh, yes," Swishbaggle said. "She's with her mother right now. She doesn't... she doesn't want anything to do with Hogwarts, or that world, though. "

"I think that story deserves another round of ale – I'm buying this time," Ron said thickly. "And we'll drink to a Happy Christmas. And tell your daughter... we aren't all like that."

"I knew you aren't," Swishbaggle said simply. "You have evil ones and good ones, just like the rest of us.

"This was exactly what I needed," Hermione said, when Swishbaggle had left to grab them more ale. "What with – with Tonks gagged by Moody's charm, and everyone else who still can't come forward as members of the Order of the Phoenix, and – everything. The losses, the death. Everything. It reminds me why we even joined the fight to begin with-"

"Well, I sort of had to," Harry said. "But yeah, this is brilliant."

Hermione leaned into Ron's side, and he obliged her by wrapping his arm around her. "Happy Christmas, you two," she said softly.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

23 December 1999

The Lupin house was painted a dusky rose (Tonks had wanted hot pink, but had agreed to a compromise), and was located just over a couple rolling hills from the Lovegoods. On a nice day, Bill could have Apparated to the Burrow, and then hiked over to tell the Lupins his news. But snow fell, promising a white Christmas.

He Apparated to the front gate. "Hello!" He called up to the house.

Tonks opened the door. She wore a dressing gown, though it was after four in the afternoon. Her hair was a light brown, and hung lank around her pale face. Bill paused, momentarily surprised. It had been a misery for Tonks, he knew, but she'd always put a brave face on it…  _I suppose that was just in public_ , thought Bill. He should have known.

"What is it you want, Bill?" she asked dully.

Where was the fun-loving girl he'd met at school and had so many adventures with? "Remember the Cursed Vaults?" he blurted out.

"Of course I remember the Cursed Vaults, you git," she said indignantly. "Tulip was over visiting the other day…"

He smiled ruefully. "That was right about when I really decided I wanted to be a Curse-Breaker. All of that adventure, searching for artifacts until we barely had the energy for our studies… that was what made me catch the fever." He tugged at his earring. "But a lot of curse-breaking is studying… it's research. It's reading old magical texts until you're doing it in your sleep. And it's knowing that in the wrong hands… even if for the right reason… a charm can be a curse."

Tonks's eyes widened. "REMUS!" she shouted. "Is it—are you really saying?!" her cheeks flooded with color, and she suddenly looked healthier, more vibrant somehow.

Ten minutes later, he was in their untidy living room, explaining the procedure. He had up a magical image of a brain. "Here is where the block is," he pointed at a shadowy part. "I've spent the last four months surveying the members of the Order that did not have it removed, and everyone had this in common." It was the size of a knut. It seemed to pulsate even as they watched.

"Amazing that we can see it," Tonks said, awed.

"I knew it had to be in the brain, to have exerted this much influence for this long," murmured Bill. "In fact, there is a small possibility that it will gradually break down naturally. But there is an equal possibility that it could, well… that it could explode. In that case, it will be like a stroke, and will need to be treated at St. Mungo's."

"Too bad St. Mungo's isn't open," said Remus. He tapped his chin, and heaved a sigh. "It's not as though I don't  _trust_ you, Bill. But this is highly experimental, and this is my  _wife_ and Teddy's  _mother_."

"I trust him," Tonks blurted. A tendril of purple hair grew out from her temple. "I trust him."

Remus looked over at her, a question writ clearly on his face.

"Rakepick," she said simply. Nothing more than that.

Remus closed his eyes and nodded.

"I'd like to start right now, if this is all right with you," said Bill. He had spent several hours in meditation today. He was ready for the procedure to come.

Tonks nodded her head sharply. "Let's do it. Do it now."

Bill touched his wand to the top of her head. A slender tendril of magic uncurled from his wand. It looked like smoke, with tiny stars hidden inside of it. It passed easily through her skull. Bill  _sang_ to it. He guided it with song. He'd learned that long ago, from an immensely talented Egyptian wizard, who performed magic that was more akin to miracles.  _Music brings the heart to magic_ , he'd said. And here was his heart, wanted to heal one of his oldest friends from a curse.

Remus had his hand tight on Tonks's shoulder when she screamed.

It was a terrible sound.

Bill almost faltered, but the music still held him and he remained strong. Even when Tonks screamed again, in agony.

"You're torturing her!" Remus roared.

"GET IT ALL OUT!" Tonks shouted.

After what felt like days, Bill finally lowered his wand. His hands shook, and he felt cold. So cold he was numb. He was in shock, his mind processed dimly. Tonks had quieted long ago, and was now staring blankly. She blinked every now and again.

"How long?" asked Bill.

"Four hours," Remus said hoarsely. "Four fucking hours, Bill. If my wife – if my wife is gone, if her brain couldn't handle it, I  _will—"_

"I was in the Order of the Phoenix," whispered Tonks. Then she started to cry – not the tears of agony, but quiet sobs that somehow hurt even more. Bill had never seen Tonks quite so undone, not even during the worst of their adventures at Hogwarts.

"I was in the Order of the Phoenix," she said again, her voice stronger. "I was in the Order of the Phoenix, and  _I know how to take the wards on St Mungo's down!_ "

24 December 1999

Percy Weasley slunk into Diagon Alley in the dead of night quite like an intruder. It was like entering a graveyard for wizard shops. Dark and unhappy looking storefronts hunched over broken cobbles and stacks of wood and stone. It was easy to pretend that the wreckage from recent rebuilding efforts were instead the rubble from a short, though furious battle, with Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

He pulled the packet of papers out of his cloak, and checked the address again. Percy knew very well where Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was located: He'd been to the WWW several times on Ministry business – always when the girl, Verity, was working. Percy experienced a moment of regret at his past actions, and the packet of papers – the Last Will and Testament of Fred and George Weasley – was suddenly very heavy.

Fred and George's last laugh at the expense of Percy was willing to him their store. Percy had not approved of the time they'd spent making practical jokes and such – they never took life  _seriously_ enough. They were talented wizards, both of them. Some of the things they'd come up with had saved the lives of Ministry officials, but up until Percy had learned of their death, he'd thought they were wasting their talent.

Percy bent his head against the wind, swallowed his regrets, and marched up the crooked, broken street to their store. It did not do to wallow in regret, not when he had an appointment waiting. WWW was closer to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron than he'd remembered. With the shops dark, and the crowds gone, what had once seemed an endless maze was actually quite small indeed.

His appointment was waiting for him.

"Ah, Jordan," he said.

"Weasley," Lee Jordan said coldly. "I didn't think you'd actually show up."

"We made an appointment," Percy said. His feelings were very raw, but it was easy to maintain an air of haughtiness – he'd done it nearly all his life. His analyst called it a defense-mechanism. Audrey was a Muggleborn witch not much older than him, spent most if not all of her time in the Muggle world, and had managed to pinpoint his personality exactly. He did not pay her nearly enough, and after this transaction was through, he'd hardly be able to pay her anything at all.

Jordan spit on the ground, and pointed a finger at him. "I'm only doing this because I want to get the hell out of here." His jaw worked furiously. "There's nothing for me here."

Percy eyed him. Clearly, this man had issues beyond selling his half of a wizarding shop. "Are you in some kind of trouble?" he asked. "I'm sure there are people who can help-"

"At the Ministry?" Jordan snorted. "Fuckers barely know what they stand for."

Percy said nothing.

"Let's do this," Jordan said. "Where do I sign."

Percy made no more effort to speak to the young man. He pulled out the required paperwork that Marluk Dunne had given him. "It's all been prepared, all you have to do is sign here, here, and here." With astonishing trust, the younger man signed without any discernible hardship – if he had any misgivings or regrets, they were long gone. "The money has already been transferred to your account at Gringotts."

"I know, I checked earlier," Jordan said indifferently. He retrieved a broom from behind a broken pillar. He mounted it, and then looked back once more at the dangling W and varnished sign. "They loved this place. What – What are you going to do with it?" his tone betrayed a hint of sadness.

"I'm going to reopen it," Percy said gently, ignoring the way his heart suddenly beat faster. It was the first time he'd spoken those words aloud. The first time he'd made his intentions clear. It was thrilling in a totally unexpected way.

Jordan was first astonished, then accepting. "Yeah, yeah. I wish I could do that. But..." his voice trailed away. "I can't stay," he said. "I've got to get out of here. Everthing's just bottled up inside, and this place"- he spread his arms as if to encompass all of Diagon Alley, all of England-"is toxic."

"Have a Happy Christmas, Jordan," said Percy.

"Yeah. You too."

A minute later, all that was left in Diagon Alley of Lee Jordan was his signature in three different places. Percy owned Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It was a daunting task set before him, but Percy pushed away thoughts of inadequacies. He drew his wand, whispered a charm, and watched the snow brush away. He followed the path he'd made, found the door, opened it, and stepped into an entirely different life.

He thought – he hoped – the twins would have wanted this.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

25 December 1999

Harry was desperately miserable.

The Burrow, always a merry, busy little place was not what it once was. The rooms were silent – no Fred and George to blow things up – the faint smell of gunpowder was gone, and even the ghoul in the attic was quiet ("He might have died," Charlie confided in Harry. "We're all too afraid to check."). Oh, Mrs. Weasley had gone through all the proper motions: the house was clean, the Christmas supper was delicious, but everyone knew the place should be overrun with loud-mouthed, fast-talking, arguing, teasing, merry redheads. Instead, only three of Arthur and Molly's children were there, and the other four – well, their memories were there, and it hurt.

The twins were gone. Percy had never come home, and Ginny was gallivanting around the world. She'd at least sent a little note – a postcard of a Muggle beach, with the words "Love from, Ginny" and nothing else. It sat on the mantle like a mockery of the love her family had for her. Harry, an orphan, had no idea how she had turned her back on them after all they had done to protect her. ("But see, that's exactly it," Hermione had said the night before, during one of Ron's rages. "She wanted to be in the thick of it. She wanted to fight. And she's furious with us for not letting her.") Harry understood feeling impotent, but Ginny was selfish for letting it overtake her.

Thinking of Ginny, and everything else the Weasleys had lost was in no way conducive to proper holiday cheer, so he turned to the person next to him. "How's the baby?" He asked Fleur. He'd tried to inject some amount of happiness and tidings-of-joy whatnot into his voice, but it just sounded fake.

"Ze baby, she is doink well," Fleur patted her belly, which looked quite large to Harry's unpracticed eye. She looked ready to have the baby at any moment. "Three more months, and ve vill meet 'er at last!" She lowered her voice. "Zis pregnancy, no one haz varned me what to expect. I feel sick, I feel 'appy, I cry, I cry, and I cry, and always Beel pats me and says, 'Zank Merlin it eez not me!'"

Harry chuckled. "I'm glad it's not me, either. Have you any idea what you'll name the baby?"

Fleur nodded. " _Oui_ , but ve are not telling. For ze bad luck."

Privately, Harry thought the Weasleys needed all the luck they could get. He glanced around the room again. He pictured it in a year's time: all was the same, except there was a silvery haired baby for the adults to coo at. Maybe Ginny would even be back by then? He could picture her holding the baby, and telling her all sorts of stories of the mischief Weasley girls could get up to... if the baby was a girl-

"Eets not ze same, is eet?" Fleur broke into his thoughts.

Harry cleared his throat. "It's not. It's... really not."

"I miss ze twins," Fleur said. Then an uncharacteristically ugly look crossed her face. "I wish zey were here, but no, I do not miss Percy. Or Ginny. I zink zat zey should just... stay away." She waved her arm at the postcard. "For months, nozing. Zen zis stupid postcard. Beel is furious." Her normally lovely face was bright red, and there was something in her eyes that reminded Harry how frightening veela could become once angered.

Once electricity started to gather in that long, silvery hair, Harry broke in. "Where  _is_ Bill?" he asked desperately. The storm receded, and the sun broke over Fleur once more.

"Ah, my love, he eez hard worker," she said, settling back in her seat, and rubbing her belly again. "He haz surprise for Molly and Arthur."

Harry's estimation of Bill rose. The man did the work of ten wizards, both on the charm Moody had performed on members of the Order of the Phoenix, and on the Web, and still managed to be a loving husband and future father. He was probably the most like Arthur, though with his mothers temper, as evidenced by his increasingly vocal disgust for his sister's behavior. He wondered what kind of surprise he had planned for his parents, but, knowing Bill, it would be perfect. It would raise their spirits.

For the first time since he'd arrived that day, Harry had a genuine smile on his face.

"You are hard worker, too," Fleur observed, suddenly sly. "Why do you not have girlfriend? You should bring a girl home for Molly to coo after."

Suddenly tongue-tied, Harry stuttered. "Um, uh- The war. I haven't got time," he said feebly. An image of Nosy rose in his mind. She was never far away, it seemed. He dreamed of her often, and she looked different every time. He'd done everything he could to find her – more than he'd let on to Ron and Hermione – but she eluded him. "There was someone, but I can't find her," he found himself admitting.

Fleur's lip curled. "Eet ees not Ginny you pine for, no?" she said. "Because-"

"It's not Ginny," Harry confirmed.

"What's not Ginny?" Ron ambled over. Without waiting for an answer, he said, "We're eating outside, Dad says. Better get out there, Charlie says he's hungry enough to eat everything. Hey, Fleur, where's Bill? And Remus and Tonks said they'd be here too, but Mum says we can't wait much longer."

"'elp me up, Ronald," Fleur demanded. "They'll be 'ere when they get 'ere."

"You're really working on sounding like a mum, aren't you," Ron said good-naturedly, as he helped Fleur up from her seat. "'ere, let me 'elp you and your belly out ze door."

"Oh, Ron," Fleur said fondly. "Never change."

"Her mood swings are dizzying," Ron said in a low voice to Harry once they were out on the front lawn. Harry nodded in agreement.

Muggles would never eat outside on a winter day, not normal Muggles, anyway. And probably most wizarding families would opt to eat indoors. But Arthur and Molly had outdone themselves. Torches were firmly planted in the ground, and it was pleasantly warm from heating charms. A shabby, green and red tablecloth covered a huge wooden table, and cozy chairs were placed all around it. Fleur sank into one of these gratefully, and Hermione and Molly chatted as they orchestrated a complicated dance of plates and silverware with their wands. Arthur had a look of delight on his face as he cut the turkey. "Look, boys!" He brandished a vibrating knife in his hand. "I bought an ekeltronic knife!"

"And you're going to cut your eye out with it," Molly said, but her eyes were twinkling.

But Harry saw her face fall when they all sat down. Even Charlie – who was large enough for two men, it seemed – could not make up for the fact that so many chairs were empty. Gloom sidled in, threatening to send the Christmas cheer off to another family, one that had not lost quite so many people in the war. Smiles slid off faces, eyes darted to empty chairs, and Harry thought of the stark postcard on the mantle. A little burst of anger popped in his stomach.

Three  _POPS!_ dispelled the sudden gloom.

Harry's head swiveled toward the gate – through which three very welcome figures entered.  _Four_ , he reminded himself. Remus Lupin held his blue-haired, wide-eyed son carefully. He looked rather better than usual; his robes were new, and he had a smile on his long, thin face. Tonks followed right behind him, clutching his hand. Bill, an uncharacteristically smug look on his face, eased through, and shut the gate behind him.

"You held dinner for us?" Bill asked, seating himself beside his wife. "Excellent. I'm starving."

"Before we eat – and I know you've waited – could I make a toast?" Tonks asked. She sounded shy, quite unlike herself. "I'll be short. And look, I brought this." A bottle of firewhiskey appeared from the folds of her robes.

Harry looked at her, interested. A bit of Tonks' liveliness had been lost during the long months it took for Bill to find a way to undo Moody's charm. Indeed, there had been times when she'd turned red with frustration, left the room, and returned later with tear marks on her face. Those times came more and more frequently, and everyone was worried about her. He glanced at Remus, who held a finger to his lips, and betrayed nothing.

"Please, say what you need to say," Molly said. "And let me fill the glasses, don't you worry about it," she added kindly. Goblets were filled with the steaming alcohol within moments.

Tonks looked around the table. Harry was alarmed to see tears in her eyes.

"Oh," Hermione exclaimed softly. "Oh!"

"How does she always know?" Ron asked.

"I'd like to toast you lot, my friends and family, my husband, my son," Tonks said. She sounded oddly triumphant for a woman on the verge of tears. "You've been such a steady support during these long months of being entirely incapable of speaking about anything that matters – not that Teddy doesn't matter. But Moody's gag forced me to be unable to commiserate with you the pain we went through as members of the Order of the Phoenix."

"WHAT!" Charlie shouted.

"Quiet, you," Remus said fondly.

"I'd especially like to thank Bill-"

" _We'd_ like to thank Bill," Remus interjected.

"Yes,  _we_ would like to thank Bill, who so – so diligently went digging through piles of old books, notes, and scrolls..." At that moment, Tonks broke down. But the important stuff had been said, Harry thought.

"Blimey, he got that charm off of her," said Ron.

Dinner was forgotten for long minutes as they celebrated with firewhiskey. Harry had what felt like a hundred questions for Bill – which he would ask, but later. For now, the celebration continued. Tonks was passed around, and when she was not proudly speaking of her role in the Order, she was crying with happiness that was more than enough to dispel the lingering gloom.

"I'm just so, so happy," she sobbed on Harry's shoulder. He patted her.

"We're happy  _for_ you, it must've been awful."

"It was. It  _hurt._ "

Once dinner was done and the celebration mellowed to something that did not quite resemble chaos, Harry went to look for Ron and Hermione. They were not hard to find. They stood near the gate, watching the snow fall beyond the boundaries of the charm Arthur wrought to warm the air for the dinner. Hermione looked very small standing in the circle of Ron's arms. Harry hesitated, not wanting to interrupt a private moment, but Ron motioned him over.

"I was just telling Hermione today wasn't bad for the first Christmas after the war," Ron said. "You know, there were a few rough spots, but. Yeah."

"It was as happy as it could have been," said Harry.

 _"_ Without the twins," said Ron. "And even without Percy, the prat."

"Without Ginny," Hermione said softly.

 _Without Nosy,_ Harry added silently, watching the snow fall beyond the Burrow's gate.

**Author's Note:**

_I hope you enjoy the winks to Hogwarts Mystery (which I think is a fun way to pass time, and also a fun way to get really frustrated at not having enough energy to do everything you want to right away). I hope the quality of writing hasn't deteriorated in the many years it has been since I've written anything of real substance._


	8. Part II

News from Britain took a slow, meandering path to Ginny. It drifted on the wind across the channel, fluttered around the major cities and wizarding communities, until it finally, lazily, found itself at Ginny's door. This was why it took over three weeks for Ginny to read the directive from Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic. The worst, most dangerous period was over, but Ginny was under strict orders not to leave her bed ("If you want things to progress satisfactorily, you'll obey," said the Healer, who knew her better than he ought). Nevertheless, Ginny felt like dancing. She mostly felt wan and listless these days, but today, yes, she felt like dancing.

Instead, she wrote a letter to her mum.

 _I won't rip this one up_ , she told herself firmly.

 _Dear Mum,_ she wrote. Then she was at an absolute loss as to what to say next. This happened often, more than she'd care to admit. But Moody's charm felt like an impenetrable black wall, or a sheet of glass, and writing around it was an exercise in torture. No matter how much time Ginny lingered over the necessity of the charm, it still cut her to think of it. But Kingsley's directive had filled her with new vigor, and she decided – why not? – to have some fun with it. She closed her eyes, and said, "Now where do I want to be?"

An image of the Burrow immediately filled her mind's eye. She shoved it aside.

Ginny was in need of visual inspiration and opened her eyes, and looked around the room – like she hadn't spent days and months inside this room, and needed a reminder, she scoffed at herself. It was painted a pale yellow, was very narrow, private, and quiet. The window was sealed shut – not that Ginny could perform complicated magic in her condition – and the entire place smelled vaguely of Uncle Bilius's home in Pemkowet. It was nauseating.

 _The air where I am is so fresh and clean,_ wrote Ginny.  _It smells like flowers after a rain. You know, those night-blooming flowers, the white ones. You used to buy dried packets of them and put them in my drawers. I never really understood why you did that, but I guess now I do. You were trying to capture this scent._ Or dispel Uncle Bilius's, Ginny thought. Her stomach throbbed painfully, and she sucked in a gasp.

 _I fly often here, there are no Muggles around at all,_ she wrote: One lie, one truth.

 _I know you want me to come home,_ she added.  _But I can't just yet. I just can't. You said that Bill told you I was wasting the twins' legacy? I am not. I'm certain they'd approve of how I'm spending the money they left me._ She stared at that for a full minute, and then crossed out the bit about the twins' money. Instead, she signed her name.

Ginny wanted to write more. She'd intended to, but writing such... fluff to her mother was in no way cathartic. Due to that unfortunate situation in her first year, she no longer kept a journal of any sort, so that was out. She flexed her fingers, grabbed a new parchment, and wrote:  _Dear twins._

Later, she decided that it was perfectly natural to want to write to the only two members of her family who wouldn't judge her; the fact they were dead was immaterial. They were missed. They were her brothers, and she ended up pouring out her heart to them. It was absolutely freeing, and by the time she was done with it, had rolled up both letters and tied a ribbon around them, she felt mellow enough that it did not at all seem crazy to her that she was addressing a letter to her dead brothers ( _To Fred and George Weasley, wherever they might be)_.

The worst that could happen was that the owl the sanitarium used to deliver the letters returned with it still tied to its leg.

Ginny yawned, stretched, and congratulated herself on not think about Grumpy today, no, not even once.


	9. Hagrid and His Umbrella

03 January 2000

**A Directive from Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic**

_Members of the Order of the Phoenix, please be advised. We are now able to break the charm wrought by Alastair Moody (deceased). It is not yet determined whether or not members of that organization will be able to respond to this message explicitly, or if the charm binds them to not even hint – by physical means – that they were part of the downfall of Tom Riddle, formerly known as Lord Voldemort._

_Be advised that the Ministry of Magic supports you whole-heartedly. If you see this, but cannot respond to it, please know that we have the very best curse-breakers, Aurors, and Ministry staff working around the clock to rectify this situation for you. I, as Minister for Magic, do not forget my brothers and sisters, even if we have never met._

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

**RADIO TRANSCRIPT**

05 January 2000

RICHARD DRAYCON: It is a special pleasure to announce to you that this broadcast will be presented to you from both the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebold, and Harry Potter, who needs no introduction. They are introducing a topic hinted at in the  _Daily Prophet_ last week: The charm the war hero, Moody, wrought to defend those who served in the Order of the Phoenix. Minister Shacklebolt, what can you tell us of this charm?

SHACKLEBOLT: Well, Draycon, I don't know very much about it. As a member of the Order of the Phoenix, I submitted to the charm readily. We'd had trouble with... members of Tom Riddle's regime forcing members, under torture, to admit to their involvement. Moody, who was rightly concerned, took steps to ensure that we would not speak, could feign real ignorance of the missions we undertook, and the people with whom we served.

DRAYCON: Tell me a little more about this. As Minister of Magic, why was it necessary for you to-

SHACKLEBOLT: Well, I wasn't Minister at the time. I was on the run, and had been for over a year at that point. Moody was the leader of our weary band, appointed by Dumbledore himself. I'll not speak ill of the man. He did the best he could, in circumstances far more dire than anyone outside the fight truly realizes.

DRAYCON: Ah, yes. Yes.

SHACKLEBOLT: I was just another soldier, working toward the downfall of Voldemort. Harry, wouldn't you agree?

POTTER: Er, no. I mean, yes. Yes, you were a valuable asset, King- Minister.

SHACKLEBOLT: Oh, don't be a git. I'm Kingsley, to you.

POTTER: Right. Kingsley. Draycon, I think Kingsley is perhaps a bit modest. He was trusted with quite a lot of information, and he worked tirelessly toward the downfall. I know that I trusted him with my life, on several occasions. He was one of the first I met, when I was still at Hogwarts. That's how far back it went.

SHACKLEBOLT: I believe I was one of the Order who liberated you from dire peril at the hands of your aunt and uncle. Ha ha.

POTTER: Yeah, ha ha. Right after Umbridge set the Dementors after me. That was brilliant. I've always wondered – who was part of the Rear Guard? Was there even a Rear Guard?

SHACKLEBOLT: It was Hagrid and his umbrella.

POTTER: I knew it! I knew it!

SHACKLEBOLT: Ha ha.

DRAYCON: As wonderful as it is to see a humorous side to the famous Harry Potter, and the Minister of Magic, we do have a limited time-

SHACKLEBOLT: My apologies, Draycon.

POTTER: Yeah. Yeah, sorry.

SHACKLEBOLT: I think you should take from that is how comfortable and close we as members of the Order of the Phoenix became while working toward a common goal. Harry and I are not unusual – I have called them my brothers and sisters, and though we do not have common parents, we are close in ideals, and beliefs. Every one of us believed that people should be judged by the content of their character, not their magical lineage. That has not changed.

DRAYCON: And you, Mr. Potter?

POTTER: Yes! Yes, I absolutely do. Tonks – Nymphadora Tonks became like a... a sister, or an older cousin to me back in my fifth year. And then she married a man I consider my uncle, so. Yeah. And she was the very first to have the charm broken off of her, which was thrilling, really. The idea of others being bound by the charm, and unable to speak... it's awful. The Order of the Phoenix was... was my family. The members of it still ARE my family. And – and-

SHACKLEBOLT: I think what Harry is trying to say is that just because we are unsure of who Moody was commanding – the network grew every day, Draycon, full of people who were terrified of Death Eaters, but were still willing to do their part in whatever role he asked of them. Moody had a unique ability – perhaps even more than Dumbledore, though we will never know – to recruit people. It's an ability I admire, as I try to recruit the brave and the young to our new Auror Department.

DRAYCON: Is that a blatant attempt to recruit to the Auror Department?

POTTER: I do believe it was. And it's necessary. I've joined up, and the former Enforcer stronghold is prepared for quite a few recruits. I know we were hoping for a lot more applications-

SHACKLEBOLT: Don't try to sugarcoat it, Harry, ha ha. We're taking applications, but basically it's just a sign-in form at this point. We'll take anyone with a modicum of ability, and welcome them as new family members.

DRAYCON: Back to the Order of the Phoenix, what are your plans for finding members who have – as you said – lost their ability to speak of their involvement?

POTTER: I think this is it.

SHACKLEBOLT: What Harry said. We're hoping that the family members – and friends – of those who were involved could come to us. Obviously, they are unable to come forward. So it is up to their friends and family to contribute names of people they suspect might have been involved. It's a tricky situation, Draycon, as I'm sure you can imagine. But we are also following further avenues of inquiry – we are going through all of Moody's personal journals, papers, and the like. Be assured that the Ministry is following any avenue. We will not rest until we've found everyone involved.

DRAYCON: On that note, our interview with the Minister and Harry Potter must conclude. But please – if you have any further information, please send it to the Department of Magical Inquiry, which has been devoted to the reassimilation of members of the Order of the Phoenix.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

07 January 2000

Harry slunk into Kingsley Shacklebolt's office at the Ministry for Magic, feeling quite like a second year, going to the Headmaster's office for the first time. His only defense was that the interview had 1) been sprung on him at the last minute, and 2) caught Harry completely unprepared. He was well aware that most of his answers had been stammering and stuttering, whilst Kingsley's answers were polished, and... Ministerly. He summoned all of his tact.

"How much of a git am I?" Harry asked.

Kingsley took his time. He shuffled papers on his desk, cleared his throat a few times, and leaned back in his wide, comfortable-looking chair, steepling his fingers across his broad chest. Kingsley was a big man, in stature and beliefs. In his slow, deep voice, he said, "You appear to be under the impression I am angry with you. Why?"

Harry slumped into a chair. "I don't know – loads of reasons." He pulled at his hair. "I hate interviews," he mumbled.

Kingsley boomed out a laugh. "You did very well," he said warmly. "Harry – I don't think you realize what it means for people to hear that you consider members of the Order to be your family. I don't think you realize what it means to me," he added. He held up a hand to defend against Harry's inevitable rebuttal. "Don't say anything. That radio broadcast had more listeners since – since, I don't know when. At least since Fudge's inaugural address. The important person in that interview was not me. It was you – no, don't argue."

Harry muttered under his breath.

Kingsley pointed a finger at him. "Whether you like it or not, you are the inspiration for a whole new generation, some of whom we very much hope will become Aurors. I would never dream of asking you to endorse the Auror Department – you have far too much work to do for that. But that very brief, open, and honest interview has landed  _thirteen_ applications on my desk. We need everyone available."

"We  _need_ to find the member of the Order," Harry shouted. He immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm just – we saw what it did to Tonks, especially. I just... can't stand it."

"I truly appreciate your fervor, Harry, trust me," Kingsley said. "I feel it the same way."

"I know you do," said Harry. "And you're dealing with a lot – I would not want to be you right now."

"Few would," said Kingsley. "Everything seems to come back to it." He got up and began to pace. Harry watched him move from his grand desk, to his overflowing bookshelf. "Everything would be so much easier.  _Everything._ Not only do I want my brothers and sisters – and yes, I genuinely consider you lot that – but there are so many questions. There is a void, Harry." Kingsley paused, and Harry got the impression he was seeing a side few saw of the new Minister: weary, flawed, and working his hardest. "Not the least of which is what to do with the fortunes of the Death Eaters. Few know this, but we are going to go with the honored tenements of Wizard's Duel. Those that defeated the witch or wizard are technically – by ancient standards, and in lieu of a will – in control of the Death Eater's fortune. But in cases like Draco Malfoy's-"

"Who was rumored to be killed by denizens of the Forbidden Forest," Harry murmured.

"Rumors are not fact, Harry," Kingsley said simply. "Moody had agents at Hogwarts. He hinted to me once or twice that Draco, the last of his line, was not killed by acromantulas or centaurs, but by a wizard. That's the largest of such instances, but not the only one. If we could find  _everyone_ involved, and construct an adequate timeline of the events after Dumbledore's death, we could move on. Don't you agree?"

Harry did agree. The agreement he felt with Kingsley was a presence that followed Harry after he left the interview with Kingsley, headed down the elevator with a number of other wizards, walked out the Atrium, and into Muggle London. It was with him when he met Ron and Hermione at the pub they'd found whilst locating the new offices of the Daily Prophet. And it sat down beside him in the booth, like a perverse double date.

"How was your meeting with Kingsley?" Hermione asked.

"It was – interesting," said Harry.

Ron had declared the place a new favorite ("Not just because I get free drinks," Ron claimed), and it was actually a good place to get away from the magical crowd. Hermione knew the major journalists for the Daily Prophet, and declared she'd never seen any of them at the pub ("They're rather too posh," she said). Harry just liked having a regular place without all the fuss of everyone knowing his name. This was their fourth visit.

"You were worried he was going to be angry with you over the interview," said Hermione.

"Don't sugarcoat it, Hermione, he was terrified Kingsley was going to rip him a new one," said Ron.

Harry glared at him. "Nothing of the sort happened, I don't know what you're talking about," he said feebly. He hunched down in his seat. "It went fine. Kingsley had a lot of good points. Finding members of the Order of the Phoenix is – most importantly – breaking the charm and allowing them to speak. But it's also about wizarding law. He says that a lot of what he is working for – the changes he is hoping to enact, is based on testimonies he's yet to receive. So there's this... added layer of importance. I don't know."

Their order of chips arrived, and Harry took the opportunity to both eat and think. It was true that a lot of problems could be solved if everyone in the Order could come together and pool their knowledge. He rubbed at his scare absently. He was almost entirely certain that all the Horcruxes had been destroyed; he had convinced himself of it during his convalescence in the Hogwarts hospital wing. But if there was anything life had taught him, it was best to strive toward certainty. Harry did not want to hear rumors of a dark presence deep in the Albanian forest. Assumptions were a luxury he could not afford.

"Are you thinking about the Horcrux?" Ron asked in what had to be the loudest whisper Harry had ever heard.

Harry shrugged. The pub had only the most tenuous ties to the wizarding community, but it was not a subject he was comfortable speaking about in public. He ate a few chips, rapped his knuckles on the table, fidgeted, rubbed at his scar-

"Harry, stop, you're driving me mental," said Ron.

"Sorry, I'm just a little-"

"Mental. You're just a little mental," said Ron.

Harry threw a chip at him. The worries he felt were maddening, and all the  _almosts_ in Harry's life were a litany in Harry's head at times: He was  _almost_ certain that the Horcrux had been destroyed. They were  _almost_ on the verge of discovering the other members. Harry was  _almost_ positive that Voldemort was no longer a physical reality. But what kept him up at night was the conversation he'd had with Dumbledore after Voldemort had struck him with the Killing Curse: "Not all is as it seems, Harry," he'd said. The words were spoken in a different context, but they haunted Harry. If not all was as it seems, then perhaps the evidence of Harry's own two eyes was no longer incorruptible.

With great effort, Harry shoved his worries far away.

Everything was  _almost_ back to normal.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

27 January 2000

The January air was frigid. Harry tried to ignore it and, glowering, cast another warming charm on his hands and feet. It was protocol to renew the charms every hour, but Harry generally forgot, and had to do it whenever the cold got unbearable. He stamped his feet, exhaling, and watching his breath appear in front of him.

"Cold night," he muttered.

"What was that?" his partner asked.

"Nothing," said Harry. They kept their eyes on the house in front of them, counting on their protective charms and the shadows to keep them out of sight. Glancing at the other man, sidelong, Harry gripped his wand tightly in his pocket.

He did not trust Lucas Savage, not at all, and the last thing Harry wanted to do was walk into a potentially dangerous situation with someone he didn't trust. For what felt like the hundredth time, Harry wished that Ron hadn't asked for a few days off, in order to spend time with Hermione's family. It felt wrong to have an ex-Enforcer at his side.  _And it doesn't even necessarily have to be Ron,_  Harry reminded himself.  _Neville, or Dean would do just as well._

Harry still did not know whether Kingsley had made the right choice in allowing some of the Enforcers to remain, and renewing their status as full Aurors. In the months since the records had been destroyed apparently accidentally - although Harry didn't believe that for one second - the ex-Enforcers had been very quiet, and dutiful. But that didn't change the fact that Peter Pettigrew, Rabastan Lestrange, and Augustus Rookwood had escaped due to what Harry felt was insider information.

Once he realized that his thoughts were heading down very familiar paths, Harry jerked slightly, automatically glancing at Savage, ensuring that the other Auror was not doing anything out of the ordinary. After a moment, he turned his attention back to the small cottage in the center of Gloucestershire.

 _Wormtail might be in there,_  Harry reminded himself.

It had been Dawlish, Harry reluctantly had to admit, that had traced Death Eater activity to this lonely spot. When he'd stood in front of Kingsley Shacklebolt and had Dawlish tell him in his patronizing tone, that he'd discovered another hideaway, only the fact that the Minister of Magic trusted Dawlish as little as Harry did had made him keep his mouth shut. Not for the first time, Harry wished that he and Ron had followed their instincts and had taken Dawlish out when they'd had their chance.

"You don't trust me, do you?" Savage asked suddenly, voice breaking the silence.

_No._

"Would you trust you?" Harry asked, glancing at him, noting his relaxed stance, and the fact that his hands were out of his pockets and nowhere near his wand. It was bad form to be so incautious in the middle of an assignment, but Harry could appreciate the point Savage was trying to make.  _I'm not dangerous. Trust me._

"Probably not," Savage said easily. He didn't look at Harry, but kept his eyes fixed on the cottage. There were still no lights, no indication that it was anything other than a derelict building in the middle of nowhere.

" _Homenum Revelio,_ " Harry muttered for the twelfth time since the sun had gone down and they had posted themselves under their tree. Still no sign of life coming from the cottage, but Harry could wait. "It isn't personal," Harry said, wishing that he could use the need for quiet as an excuse not to talk to Savage - but their protective circle kept the sound of their voices from being picked up by the wind and carried to Death Eater ears.

"I didn't think it was," Savage said. "Those of us who were Aurors and then Enforcers and now Aurors again... I can understand the distrust." His robes rustled and he leaned against the tree, obviously quite at ease, despite the fact that Harry was prepared to counter an attack at any moment. "My niece was-"

But Harry raised his hand suddenly, cutting him off. "Quiet," he breathed, pointing. A light flickered in the topmost window. Not from a spell, but from a candelabra or an oil lamp. It was like a beacon, the only light in the surrounding area, and shone brightly against the darkened landscape. " _Homenum Revelio,_ " Harry said again.

This time the spell came back to him, whistling around him twice. "There are two," said Harry.

"Let's go," said Savage.

Harry would have been more comfortable wearing his invisibility cloak, knowing that it provided impenetrable protection, but instead, he satisfied himself with the Disillusionment Charm. It wasn't perfect, but in the dark it was almost as good, and offered more freedom of movement. He followed Savage, wand raised chest high, as they traversed the dirty road, and moved through the unkempt yard.

Savage hurried forward-

"Stop!" Harry hissed. He'd caught sight of something else flickering, but not a light - the cottage had been warded. "There's a ward," he explained grimly.  _So much for Dawlish's assurances,_  he thought. "It's about five feet from the walls of the cottage," he added quietly.

Sweat beaded on Savage's brow. It was unfeigned.

 _I'm sure you know all about the dangers of wards._  But Harry did not say this to the ex-Enforcer. "Can you take it down?" If Savage could not, they would have to call in Bill Weasley or another Curse-Breaker.

"It depends on the ward, but I think so," Savage said. He was already moving forward, scanning the darkness for any ripples or abnormalities. Slowly and carefully, Savage raised his wand and moved it forward. "It's a web," he said.

Harry's stomach churned as he immediately thought of Fred and George, and how they'd been caught in a web and taken by Enforcers or Death Eaters (though in Harry's mind, there was little difference).

"Take it down," said Harry. There was no need to maintain secrecy here, as they had learned to do at St. Mungo's during the war. As Savage prepared to do so, Harry slipped away, casting a circle around the cottage that would force the Death Eaters to remain where they were. Once Savage broke the ward, whoever was in there would not be able to Apparate.

By the time Harry was done and back with his partner, Savage was straining with effort, and muttering under his breath. Tiny sparks emitted from his wand as he fought to destroy the ward. Harry stood silently, not wanting to break his concentration, and wishing that Bill was here after all. He was quite skilled at breaking the wards, after all, and could have done it in half the time.

The ward fell with an audible sound loud enough that Harry was certain they'd alerted the Death Eaters to their presence. But no cries of alarm sounded from the building, nor did the light in the upper room change. Harry whispered the spell again, and was satisfied when it told him two people were still in the house.

But still. The hair on the back of his neck prickled.

Savage stepped forward without Harry having to tell him to. Harry followed him up the stone steps to the back door, wand still out. The other Auror tapped his wand three times against the knob-

And before he could open it, the door was pushed open from the inside with such force that it knocked into Savage. A grunt of pain escaped him just as a small, squat body barreled out the door. Green light arced from her wand, and the door splintered and smoldered.

"Savage!" Harry yelled, ducking, as another curse flew right over his shoulder. Harry dodged and ducked, " _Stupefy!_ " But Alecto Carrow was quicker than Harry would have thought possible, and she rolled to the side.

" _Stubefy!_ " Savage echoed Harry, dealing with his own opponent. Yaxley had come out of the cottage while Harry had been occupied with Carrow, who was now cackling and stumbling out of range. For a moment, Harry considered following her, and abandoning Savage... but only for a moment...

With a broken nose, Savage would not be able to articulate his spells correctly. Harry sent one last stunner at Carrow; it missed her by an inch, and then she had passed Harry's protective circle, and Disapparated with a wild laugh and a  _crack!_

" _Sectumsempra_!" Harry bellowed, aiming for Yaxley's wand arm. With lightning quick reflexes, the Death Eater brought his other hand up as a shield, bellowing in pain when a deep gash opened.

"Oh, is that Potter?" Yaxley said, trying to sound scornful, but his question ended with a pained moan.

Harry ignored him. Savage's wand emitted another weak stunning spell, which Yaxley managed to dodge. But as he was distracted, ropes flew out of Harry's wand and wrapped themselves tightly around the Death Eater, binding him to a post. "Yes, it's me," said Harry. He kept his wand drawn, just in case. He was certain that Alecto Carrow was gone by this time... he'd hear her if she returned.

"How did you know we were here?" Savage asked forcefully. He had one hand over his bleeding nose, and the other kept his wand focused on Yaxley. Yaxley didn't answer; instead, he started to laugh.

"It'll be better for you if you just tell us," Harry warned. His palms itched, and he almost wished that another Death Eater would come running out... adrenaline pumped through his veins, and the brief battle had been wholly unsatisfying. Yaxley continued to laugh, as though he had a secret that Harry did not know. This was infuriating.

"Who told you we were coming?" Savage said, nudging the Death Eater none-too-gently with the toe of his boot.

"Don't touch him when he's bound," Harry said sharply. "We're Aurors, not Enforcers."

"No wonder the Dark Lord wanted to kill you so badly," said Yaxley. Harry could see the gleam of his white teeth in the faint light. "You sanctimonious little-"

" _Lumos,_ " Harry muttered, ignoring Yaxley's stream of insults, and his wand tip lit up. "And feel free not to tell us," Harry said cheerfully. "You're already going to Azkaban. But," Harry said, "I'll bet that whoever warned you couldn't care less about that. You might as well give us a name. That way you'll have more company out on the island."

Yaxley was stubbornly silent.

"I'm impressed," Harry said thoughtfully. "Usually Death Eaters jump all over the chance to bring down others with them... nasty, Slytherin habit, that-"

"I wasn't in Slytherin," Yaxley muttered. "I was in Ravenclaw."

"And here I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart," Harry said smoothly.

"Harry, we should get him back to Headquarters," Savage said. "They'll take care of the interrogation, and then they can hand him over to the Wizengamot."

"In a minute," Harry said. It made him a little uncomfortable to do this in front of Savage, but he'd already thought of a way around it. Yaxley had not been a useless Death Eater, the last year of the war had proven that. In fact... "Unless you don't want to be around your old boss?" Harry asked. It hadn't been a secret that Yaxley had taken over as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement when Pius Thicknesse had become the puppet minister.

"Never cared for him much," Savage said in a hard voice.

"I need information," said Harry, turning his attention back to their captive Death Eater. "I'm looking for an object... one that Voldemort"-he smiled grimly when Yaxley shuddered at the name-"treasured. Did he give anything like that to you?"

"No," Yaxley said, sounding confused enough that Harry believed him. His hopes (which had risen when he'd learned that Yaxley was a former Ravenclaw) sunk again.

"Do any of your little Death Eater friends have it?"

Yaxley eyed him speculatively, as though wondering how much this information was worth. But Harry could tell that Yaxley knew nothing about it.

"Harry, what-?"

" _Obliviate,_ " Harry murmured. The charm lit a path directly from Harry's wand to Yaxley's head. The Death Eater's mouth gaped open, and he shook his head as though clearing it of cobwebs.

Harry turned and repeated the spell, this time on Savage. There was no way that he'd allow the fact that Harry was still not certain that all of the Horcruxes had been destroyed to become public knowledge to Death Eaters and former Enforcers.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry's body was still frozen when he stumped into the Muggle pub, the Bunch of Grapes, that Ron liked to frequent. He was home from Gloucestershire several days early, and Ron and Hermione weren't expecting him. Wishing that he had better news for them, or a lead, or anything, he grimaced and walked through the narrow, claustrophobic entryway. All and sundry used the otherwise barren walls as a bulletin board until they looked like they were papered in adverts of all kinds: men seeking girlfriends, people wanting flat mates, and even a huge, lurid poster advertising Little Franz and Gregorio, the Turkish Wolfboys.

Shaking his head, Harry skirted around a group of three Muggle boys, all of whom looked around sixteen. Glad that being an Auror didn't require monitoring underage drinking in the Muggle world, he stepped into the smoke-filled room, headed straight for the bar, and ordered an ale. "Thanks," he told the blue-haired bartender, who only grunted in response.

"Harry!" Hermione said loudly, beaming at him, as he approached their table. She looked shocked to see him.

"Hey," he said, sliding into the booth next to Luna Lovegood, of all people. "Nice to see you, Luna," he said. He'd never really pictured Hermione, Ron, and Luna socializing together. Harry liked Luna, but she was really more of Ginny's friend. Harry wracked his brain, trying to remember if he'd even seen her more than a handful of times since the war ended.

"You too, Harry," she said serenely.

"Why are you back so soon?" Ron asked. "Not that I'm your bloody keeper, but Kingsley said you'd be gone for at least another week."

Harry cut a sidelong glance at Luna, then leaned forward, lowering his voice. Even though they were in a Muggle pub, Harry didn't trust his surroundings. He felt a pang in his stomach as he recalled Mad-Eye, and his excessive paranoia. "It wasn't quite useless," he said, thinking of Yaxley, and how he'd pointed them in the direction of the Alecto Carrow, one Hogwarts' least favorite professors during the war. "We got Yaxley, but the rest of them scampered. Alecto Carrow was there-"

Luna sat up straight and her eyes popped excitedly at him. It was then that Harry realized that the other three were rather drunker than he'd thought. "You caught Carrow?" she said quickly.

"No," Harry shook his head. "Not yet," he added. He eyed Luna appraisingly, wondering if her reasons for wanting Carrow caught were personal. It wasn't a secret that the reign of terror had been difficult on the students. Snape had tried to make it as easy as possible, but he hadn't been able to completely curb the Carrows.

"I can't wait until she's caught. I might even go to her trial," Luna said, calmly sipping from her mixed drink.

"And spit on her?" Ron asked, grinning.

"Twice," Luna said, staring off into space. "Once for me and once for Ginny. Unless she's home from her tour of the world. Then she can do it herself."

Since Ginny hadn't been seen in months, and was apparently too indignant that she'd been kept out of the action, Harry wasn't too sure that she'd be back in time to spit on Alecto Carrow at her trial. He exchanged a fleeting glance with Hermione, who grimaced a little at him. She shared his feelings that the longer Ginny was gone, the more selfish and spoiled she seemed. Especially after Christmas, when it had been plain that Percy and Ginny's estrangement was almost as heartbreaking to Molly as Fred and George's deaths.

"Why would Ginny want to spit on them?" Ron asked quietly. His expression was stoic, and he twirled his glass of amber liquid around. "I know you lot like to pretend to be the strong silent types, but-

"The Carrows used to torture us," Luna said, sounding remarkably blaise. Harry shifted on the uncomfortable, scratchy seat. He didn't know which was worse: Luna's words, or her utterly calm demeanor. "You know that. Everyone knows that. There isn't any reason to discuss it further."

Ron looked as though he might want to argue, and Harry couldn't really blame him. The stories that filtered out of Hogwarts, especially during the second year after Voldemort had fully ascended to power and taken over the Ministry, were pretty horrifying. And it was possible that Ginny had been hurt, but by all accounts, she was having a merry time wandering around the world and, for all intents and purposes, turned her back on her family.

"I need another drink," Ron said finally.

After that, the atmosphere lightened a good deal. Harry had another ale, and then another, until the January chill of Gloucestershire had receded from his bones, and a pleasant nimbus of numbness surrounded him. He pushed Yaxley and Carrow, Bellatrix and Rabastan, and all the other Death Eaters who remained free out of his mind. He didn't contribute much to the conversation; Luna and Hermione had settled into a comfortable pattern of bickering back and forth.

"How's your family?" Harry asked Ron.

"They're good. Fleur's getting pretty big," Ron said, tilting his head back and leaning against the wall. As Harry watched. Ron's eyes closed and he appeared to drift off to sleep.

Hermione and Luna had now started arguing over the advert Harry had seen on his way inside. "Little Franz and Gregorio aren't even Turkish names," Hermione said. "It's just a  _carnival_ , Luna."

"How do you know what Turkish  _wolfboysh_  are called?" Luna asked loudly. "I shtill think Remush would like to know of any wolfboysh running around."

Harry would have interceded but for the fact that both Hermione and Luna appeared to be enjoying their little debates quite a lot. Plus, he'd learned that interrupting two slightly drunk witches could have consequences he wasn't prepared for. He grinned a little as Hermione bit off a scathing rejoinder, listing slightly in her seat, and settled back into the booth even further, and searched the crowd.

Looking for Nosy - even though he had no clue what she actually looked like - had become such a habit, that it didn't even matter that he was in the middle of a Muggle pub. He felt lucky, though, that he was certain that Luna wasn't Nosy. She was too young to have been a member of the Order of the Phoenix. And as much as he liked Luna, he was sure that they wouldn't have forged that connection. He wouldn't have had sex with her... he wasn't attracted to her. She didn't understand him fully even after years of knowing him the way Nosy had.

Harry tore his mind away from these thoughts, and focused on his ale.


	10. St. Mungo's Madness

March 01, 2000

**ST MUNGO'S OPEN TO THE PUBLIC ONCE MORE**

_Astrid Lang_

_It is with great pleasure that the Daily Prophet is able to announce that as of two o'clock in the morning, Britain's most renowned hospital, St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries has reopened. It comes as just as much of a shock to us as it does to you. As you well know, the Daily Prophet has now made its home in the heart of Muggle London. Many of us walked by the hospital on the way to work. We felt just as you do: sad, betrayed, and worried for the future._

_But Minister Shacklebolt woke several of us junior reporters up last night, and this is what he said: "Are you all listening? No, Geoffrey, don't go back to sleep. You wanted to be a reporter, didn't you? News happens in the middle of the night, so be prepared. Are we all here?" I should mention that Minister Shacklebolt did not wake up any of the more seasoned reporters, which has caused quite a lot of people to be quite shirty this morning. But they did allow us to break the story._

" _It has been far too long since British witches and wizards have been able to have their injuries and illnesses treated at St. Mungo's due to the vile spell laid in place by the prior Ministry. We had a breakthrough over Christmas – a true Christmas miracle, let me tell you, in more ways than one! – and our Department of Mysteries and our Curse-Breakers spent the last month tirelessly breaking down the Web, and destroying it once and for all. For too long, St. Mungo's was a place of fear and death. Let us return it to a place of healing and hope."_

_This reporter would like to add that the hospital has already received its first patients: A Muggle, named Jacob Kowalski, and a magizoologist, Newt Scamander, who asked that the details of their injuries remain private._

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry was there to shake Newt Scamander's hand when he and his friend Mr. Kowalski left St. Mungo's at 10:37 in the morning. They had met before at an official Ministry event; then, Scamander had been reserved and formal. Here, he was sporting a bandage around his head, and was mildly giddy. "So glad you've made a full recovery," said Harry. In truth, both Newt and Jacob (as Harry was soon asked to call him) looked more embarrassed than anything. They were an odd couple: one a wizard, one a Muggle; one tall, one short; one thin to the point of looking slightly unhealthy, and one robust. But the identical look of sheepish laughter was identical. It made them look like brothers.

"If Queenie finds out…" said Jacob.

"It's unfortunate we were in the news," Newt murmured.

"I'm sure your wives will just be happy you're alive and well," Kingsley said firmly.

The two exchanged dubious glances.

A diversion in the form of a swarthy wizard arrived at just that moment. "What did you two get into again," he folded his arms across his chest and looked stern. "Grandmum and Auntie are never going to let you hear the end of this – what was it?"

"Now, see here, boy," Jacob pulled himself to his feet. "You don't need to involve yourself in the business of your elders."

Just when Harry was growing concerned that there was some serious family issues lurking under the surface, the swarthy man relaxed, grinned, and then laughed. "You two," he shook his head. "You are in  _so_ much trouble. At least tell me what it was." He glanced toward Harry. "Have you ever seen… the…" his voice trailed off as his eyes widened on Harry's scar. "What the…"

Jacob clapped him on the arm.

"Don't  _stare_ at him," said Scamander.

Harry laughed. "I heard St. Mungo's was finally open for business, recognized your… granddad? Yes, your granddad, and came over to say hello."

"I'm Ralf," said Ralf. He leaned forward to shake Harry's hand.

"Pleasure," Harry said firmly.

There was a loud crack, and two older, but still quite lovely, witches Apparated into the waiting room. Ralf let out a low whistle.

" _Baby erumpents?!"_ one of them said incredulously.

"And you thought we wouldn't know? We wouldn't find out?!"

"I'm a LEGILIMENS, you barmy old nutters!"

"And they managed to be put on the front page of the Daily Prophet," Ralf pointed out, laughter in his voice.

Harry and Kingsley exchanged a look, grinned, and eased away from the erupting family drama. Most of the parties were more amused than angry; there was no need for an Auror to be there. Indeed, they started laughing before Kingsley and Harry had even turned the corner.

They were arguing like the Weasleys argued.

Harry's heart squeezed.

The Weasley fights had always been like a series of small explosions. One of them would erupt, it would cause a chain reaction. There would be yelling, jinxes, breaking… and then they'd blow over, and the laughing would begin. It was a rhythm of a family Harry had known from the time he was eleven years old. And it had been broken.

"I'm glad you came," Kingsley murmured as they walked. "I wanted to speak to you… preferably away from the Ministry."

"Am I in trouble?" Harry asked, half-joking.

Kingsley was quiet for a long while. They pushed out the doors of St. Mungo's. The press had lingered, but were now packing up their things. The group of interns – no older than teenagers – were standing no more than ten feet away from the entrance, talking excitedly, and making no effort not to draw the attention of Muggles.

"No," said Kingsley, his deep voice low and even. But his eyes were troubled, hardly looking at Harry at all.

Harry stopped in his tracks. "What is it? What-?"

"Not here, we're meeting Tonks at the pub," Kingsley gestured at the pub ahead of them. It was, Harry noticed, the very same pub that gave Ron free drinks on account of his red hair. They'd been there once or twice since, although Ron felt increasingly guilty at accepting free drinks.

"I know this spot," Harry murmured.

This time, the proprietor did not come out to meet them, nor was he behind the bar. A slight, dark-haired boy who did not look old enough to legally buy alcohol was moving with business-like purpose to refill drinks and pile plates high with chips for the lunch crowd. Behind him, he could see the proprietor, sitting behind a half-closed door. His arms were folded over his ample belly, and his smile was wide enough to split his face.  _A good meeting then_ , thought Harry, a little wistful that there was no such thing as having fun at work.

Tonks sat in a far booth, a pint of amber liquid in front of her. "Try the beer," she said cheerfully, "It's good!"

"It's good, yeah," agreed Harry. He slid into the opposite side of the booth. Kingsley grabbed an extra chair from another table, and sat down.

Tonks insisted they order before they chat. By the time Harry had requested an ale and bangers and chips, his stomach fuzzed with anxiety. He was on very good terms with both of them; he had not been lying when he'd said he'd thought of them as family, and had done so since he was in fifth year. And he did see them socially every once in a while, usually over at the Burrow. But they'd never sprung a surprise lunch on him.

"Harry, we wanted to talk to you about—" Kingsley began.

But Tonks interrupted him. She leaned forward, her eyes unwontedly serious. "We worry you might be about to crack up, and we're pulling you off active cases. No, we're not firing you, nor are we demoting you. In fact, you are being promoted to group leader. You will be in charge of monitoring the progress of Auror trainees."

Harry gaped at her. " _What—"_

"Harry, don't look at me like I've just betrayed you," Tonks said gently. She took a long pull of beer.

"And I would not have put it the way Tonks did," Kingsley said slowly. "We think that by not giving you a chance to breathe, by throwing you into work right after you recovered from your injuries, we think we have done you a disservice. Your partner mentioned to me that—"

"What's this about Savage?" Harry said sharply.

"Never you mind what exactly he said," Kingsley said repressively. "He asked for confidentiality, and I respect that. But you are working too much, you are not resting enough, and you need a change in rotation."

"The Auror Department does that constantly," Tonks said. "It's just that it's hardly been like following protocol these last few years. You didn't even attend the Academy yourself, and we didn't – and don't – think you have to. But Aurors are rotated between different types of duties because there are not enough of us for us to be able to burn out."

"We trust you, Harry," Kingsley said simply. "This isn't a disciplinary issue."

"Sorry if I was being far too light-hearted," Tonks smiled at him. Harry, somewhat begrudgingly, smiled back.

"So, it's… I'm to be in charge of the trainees?"

"Yes, and I think you'll like your immediate partner," Kingsley said. "We'll save that for a surprise, though, since he hasn't actually accepted."

"It's Ron," Harry scoffed. He grinned at the looks on their faces. "Of course it's Ron. I can't think of any other Auror I'd be immediately happy to work with – excepting you two, but I can't imagine the Minister of Magic going out to the Orkney Islands for a rotation."

"See? You'll enjoy yourself. You can think of it as a small holiday. You'll work with one group of trainees, and then when they graduate the four month program, you'll be rotated back to the Ministry." Tonks nodded sharply. "I, for one, am glad you haven't fought our decision."

Harry privately thought that there was not much he could do. This was the Head of the Auror Department and the Minister of Magic who were giving him gentle orders. Not to mention, they were his friends. His only bleak thought was for the Horcrux… how could he question the dark wizards and witches about the Horcrux. But even then… Yaxley had been the last great suspicion he had. Everyone else who had been in any sort of leadership capacity were either captured or dead.

He'd have to start searching the countryside soon. Maybe he could consult with Dumbledore's portrait… ask him how he'd planned to search for the Horcruxes… in fact, he should have done this a while ago.

Harry took a slow, even breath. "All right. When does the training start?"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

March 01, 2000

It had been two weeks since Ginny Weasley at last set foot on British soil. She had not arrived by magical train, carpet, or broomstick. She hadn't Apparated (though she knew how, thank you very much). She had taken a Portkey from the French hospital she had been in, and it had taken her to a care center in Cornwall. It was a rather dingy place. "We've not got any patients for over two years," said a mediwitch, "We think people forgot we were here. Just lucky we were never raided. Here you go, your things already arrived." Ginny shrunk and pocketed her trunk, murmured her thanks and goodbye, and she was free.

Then she looked down at the bundle in her arms, and all the extra things she had to carry.

Well, mostly.

"You'll be all right?" The mediwitch asked. She'd followed her out the door.

"I'll be fine," Ginny said.

"We've just read St. Mungo's is finally open…"

Ginny huffed a tiny laugh. "It's why they let me out," she pointed out. "They knew I needed to have access to the resources St. Mungo's has." Ginny was fairly itching to take her leave, but did not want to be overly rude. "If you'll excuse me, I've got… places to be."

"Family?" The mediwitch gestured at what Ginny carried.

"No… no, I don't think so," Ginny said stiffly. "Please excuse me."

Ginny did not allow the mediwitch to probe more deeply for answers, spun in a tight circle, and Apparated on the spot. She had had enough of that, thank you very much. The last months had been full of everyone keen on finding answers. Ginny had come out of it thankful for how her life had been saved, and yet had felt very keenly that her privacy had been violated. Healers paid no mind to modesty, to penetrating questions, or to boundaries. They couldn't.

Ginny found a bench. She was somewhere near St. Mungo's, she knew that. The healers had given her a talisman that would help guide her while Apparating. It had taken a lot out of her, the Portkey… the Apparition. Once the healers had been sure Ginny would recover – and that had not happened until after Christmas – the healing had gone fast. She still tired easily, and she still was on an insane number of potions – she looked down at the bundle of sampler potions in her arms, the ones the healers had thrust at her ("Just in case St. Mungo's is quite ready," said one healer, who was far more nervous than Ginny), and she had not yet had time to pack away in her bag. Just a few more weeks, and she'd be free of just about all of these…

" _Weasley?"_ someone shouted.

Ginny had the impression of dark hair and pale skin before a small child barreled into her. Just as quickly she pulled away. She flushed brightly. Ginny looked her up and down. Still tiny, but not the small child she'd immediately thought. This girl was twelve… maybe thirteen… maybe even fourteen.

" _Barrow_ ," she breathed.

"What are you doing here?" they asked at the same time, incredulous.

"So you and your family made it," Ginny leaned back against the bench and closed her eyes. "Thank God."

Barrow looked around at the passersby. There was a hint of suspicion there in those dark eyes. "Let's get off the street," she murmured. "You look… you look knackered, and my da owns a quiet spot."

Ginny followed Barrow up the street and into a clean, well-lit pub. A man with an ample stomach and a mustache like a walrus greeted his daughter cheerfully. And then his eyes grew huge when he saw Ginny.

"Is this her? Is it?" he boomed. When Barrow cried "Yes!", he sprinted from around the bar, and gripped Ginny's hand tightly in his. "Dear girl," he said, mustache quivering. "Dear, dear girl."

Ginny was grateful when he let go of her hand, stepped back, and clapped his hands together. "Come! Have a meal. You can tell me how it came to pass that you saved my daughter's life." He urged her into the back, partially shut the door, and pointed her to a chair. "You look exhausted, and hungry. Mind the bar, Finny!"

Ah, Finny, thought Ginny, inwardly grateful she'd not had to ask her first name. She'd only known her as Barrow. "Is she… a little young to mind the bar?" Ginny asked.

The big man shrugged. "She'll do alright. And I'm right here. Now! We were so certain that the cover my daughter used would work! What happened?"

There was so much Ginny could have told him. It had been Dedalus Diggle's job to give fake identities to those who had need of it. Dedalus Diggle, who had been tortured into insanity (and, later, summarily dumped into Azkaban). There was no way of knowing how much information he had given his Death Eater torturers. It had not been his fault… Ginny knew that there were some things the mind and body just couldn't bear. So Dedalus had likely told the Death Eaters about his associates, and his connections. One of those had led to Finny Barrow's identity being discovered.

But all of that was associated with the Order of the Phoenix, and Ginny was unable to speak of it.

She was used to prevaricating, though. "You called her Finny," she said. "I knew her as Barrow. And I don't know your name, sir."

"Leonard Swishbaggle," he said promptly. "Think Finny was happier with a more common name like 'Barrow'. And what's yours?"

"Ginny Weasley," said Ginny. "And trust me, I'm sure Finny missed the opportunity to be a Swishbaggle her entire time at Hogwarts." No one ever got over losing their family.

Mr. Swishbaggle leaned back, folded his arms over his ample belly, and smiled at her. That smile reached somewhere inside Ginny, the part of her that was vulnerable, the part that made her cry in her dreams. To her absolute horror, her eyes began to well with tears.  _Stop, stop, stop_ , she ordered herself.

"I had a hard war, myself," Mr. Swishbaggle said gently. "Saw terrible things. Lost friends. It took a long time to come back. You have family?"

Ginny's head did a sort of wobble. "I can't… I can't go home," she said. It would kill her to be there, and Ginny did not take those words lightly. Not after the last months. But it would kill her to be at home with her family, and them having no clue that a part of Ginny was beating desperately at a wall in her own head, begging them to let her out.

"You need a job?" he asked. "A place to live? What?"

"Both," said Ginny miserably. "I came to London… I need to find a job and a flat. Or… somewhere."

"Well," Mr. Swishbaggle said. "I can offer you a job, and a place to stay. There's a small apartment above the bar. It's empty just now, so you wouldn't need to pay—"

"I can pay," said Ginny, surprised. "I have plenty of money." Ginny, in fact, had more money than she could use up in several lifetimes. The twins had been far wealthier than any of the other Weasleys could even dream. "And, sir, I wouldn't need a job for long – I have another… prospect, but it wouldn't be for a couple weeks…"

"Well, then, looks like I've got a worker who won't get me in trouble," Mr. Swishbaggle grinned easily.

Barrow came in just then with a plate piled high with bangers and chips. "Sorry," she said, a little breathless, "we've got a bit more than our usual lunch crowd… and I think some of them are from – are from our lot," she gave Ginny a furtive look.

Mr. Swishbaggle stood abruptly. "I'll take care of it from here. Finny, why don't you show Miss Weasley the apartment upstairs. Help her carry her things. There's a good lass."

"Da still worries," Finny said. "Even though the war is over. We found out when we were in Greece – I didn't even know I'd been tracked, but a pair of wizards showed up at the docks – we'd gone out on a fishing boat – they showed up, and said the war was over. I could go home without even worrying. Da said it was a load of tosh, but then they came back the next day with a bag of gold and the Daily Prophet."

"But he still worries," Ginny said, once her rambling speech had run down. She looked at him fondly. She'd known another Gryffindor who'd rambled. "Are you… sure you don't ever want to return to Hogwarts?"

"I… don't really like to talk about Hogwarts," Finny said. Her face paled even further until she looked nearly translucent. In that moment, Ginny remembered the desperate flight up to Hogwarts, the way she'd roughly roused Finny – she'd not even known the girl's real name at that point – and performed memory charms on Finny's yearmates. All of that was between them. Ginny shouting, Finny crying… It  _hurt_ to remember.

"I understand," said Ginny.

Sadness seemed to follow her.

The space had some furnishings: a small bed with an iron frame, a rocking chair next to the window, a tiny table next to the bed. Ginny sat on the bare mattress. An hour ago, she hadn't had a job or a place to stay. Now she had both. Her head spun with her luck, and her body mentioned that it might be time for a nap. But her mind told it firmly that she had errands to run: sheets and food and other household things to buy, and an application from the Ministry of Magic to pick up.

After all, Auror training started in a month and a half. Ginny needed to be ready.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

March 20, 2000

The Orkney Islands were frigid. Harry wrapped his cloak tighter around his body.

Much of what he knew from the Islands came from Hermione, of course. ("It's to the north of Scotland, so you'll need a warmer cloak," she'd told him. Harry hadn't paid much attention to that, a fact that he was regretting at the moment). The Orkneys were remote to almost a laughable degree. The only buildings for miles made up the former Enforcer compound. A tall, proud structure was surrounded by seven other squatty things that were classrooms, dormitories, research departments, and whatever else. Voldemort had had the Ministry open its coffers. According to Hermione, the whole place had taken seventeen days to build, from raw materials to finishing touches.

"And it's built on the largest uninhabited island in the Orkneys," she'd said. "It hardly even needs to be protected, but it's got all the protections – except the Fidelias Charm – that Dumbledore put on Grimmauld Place."

Well, it was inhabited now. The place did not quite bustle, but it was not empty. The squatty buildings sat among trees – magically tall trees that Hermione'd said had been transported to the island. It created a forest type atmosphere in a place that was otherwise fairly barren. For all Harry knew, Voldemort had ordered the trees brought in from Albania. Maybe he'd been missing his home of eleven years, and wanted to recreate it. Harry and Ron made their way down from the Apparition point. They both carried brooms and duffel bags, for what Hermione considered one of the craziest ideas they'd ever had.

"You ready?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded sharply. They'd had their discussion, the two of them. At first, Harry had been willing to go along with the Ministry, but then he'd nearly changed his mind. Then Hermione'd talked him out of it ("You and Ron should stick together, it was silly of them to put you with a different partner"). Then  _Ron_ had changed his mind, threatened to quit the Aurors completely, and go oust his brother Percy from whatever he was doing in the former Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. ("I'll just… make jokes," he'd said helplessly, even though both Harry and Hermione knew that he'd never felt less like laughing.) In all, it had taken nearly five days, and at least as many bottles of Firewhiskey for them to decide, finally, that they would help with the trainees while they thought out their next steps.

Hermione'd got down on her knees to thank anyone who would listen that it was finally over.

Harry and Ron headed down a steep track carved out of stone. Apparently the Enforcers had wanted plenty of warning before anyone approached. Harry admitted inwardly that it made sense. This whole place made sense as a location for the Aurors. For a time, it had been used for evil, but they could turn that around…

They finally approached the tall building, and entered. A blast of warm air hit them, and Harry sucked in a deep breath.

"You're here!" Tonks said cheerfully, appearing as though from thin air – which Harry thought impossible.

"Were you hiding behind the door?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Of course," she said brightly. She gripped his arm, and then Ron's. "I wasn't sure you two would really come… I know our decision didn't sit well with either of you." Her eyes were suddenly very serious. "But we really do need you. You two  _lived_ it. The last class of trainees we had were green as grass. None of them knew their behinds from their brooms. We're hoping the next class will be better, but…" she spread her hands helplessly.

"But you aren't counting on it," Ron finished. He and Harry shared a glance.

"So… what exactly does the job entail? Are we teaching?" Harry was a little apprehensive of the answer. He'd done some teaching, of course, back in the Dumbledore's Army days. But he was not comfortable with the idea of teaching day in and day out. Aurors had to learn all sorts of things, he'd barely past his potions exam…

But Tonks interrupted his train of thought with some words of reassurance. "No, no, we have professors who will be taking care of that end of things. But the trainees are to spend two hours a day with you, going over their reflexes, talking, etc. You're also officially in charge of them. You need to make sure they get to class, that they have done their work, that they are maintaining certain standards of behavior…"

"So… we're the Head Boys of Enforcer Hogwarts," said Ron.

Harry laughed.

Tonks beamed at them. "Yes, that's a fantastic way to put it!"

"If we're to enforce the rules, we've got to know them," Harry, who was less impressed by Ron's sense of humor, pointed out. "Have you got a list of rules or anything?"

Two immensely fat books appeared out of nowhere to land with twin thuds at Ron and Harry's feet. There on the cover, in thick, important-looking lettering, were the words "Auror Rules, Regulations, Policies, and Protocols". Harry was aghast at the size of the thing.

"We have to read all of that?" Ron asked in horror.

"Well… we'd like you to," said Tonks. "A lot of the rules are intuitive… you'd think. Last year, we had an incident with fraternization between one of the Aurors and a trainee. She'd been ignoring certain warning signs that the trainee was falling behind in her classes, and we found out that that was due to an inappropriate sexual relationship. It hurt, because we had to shunt her to another Department – the rules are the rules – and we really can't afford to lose any Aurors at the moment."

Ron nudged Harry. "Guess that means you can't take the trainees out one by one to find out if they're Closet Girl or not," he grinned.

Harry stepped on his foot, hard. " _Shut up, Ron,_ " he said between his teeth.

"Oh, don't mind me," said Tonks. "I know all about Closet Girl. But yes, even if Closet Girl falls out of the sky and lands at Auror Training Academy, you're not to have anything to do with her until her training is over."

It had been quite some time since Harry had been quite that mortified. He was very quiet after Ron and Tonks had finished having a laugh at his expense. He hardly said a word when Tonks took them around the various offices to introduce them to those witches and wizards with whom they'd be working soon enough. She showed them the dormitories, the classrooms, the dining hall ("Very important!" said Ron), and the recreation centers. There was even a Quidditch Pitch.

The sun was low in the sky when Tonks finally released them. "I'm releasing you from duty until you report here on April 19," she said. "Enjoy your time off. Spend time with your family. See your friends – you're both invited to dinner. Remus would love to see you. I don't want to see either of you at the Ministry, are we clear?"

"Clear," said Harry.

"Crystal," said Ron.

They trudged back up the hill. The books Tonks had forced on them seemed to weigh about 5 stone each. Harry took out goggles and gloves before stuffing the book out of sight in his duffel bag. Ron had undone his cloak, and pulled three sweaters over his head. Harry followed suit. "You sure about this?" Harry asked. Hermione'd told them it was insane of them to even  _consider_ flying back from the Orkney Islands on brooms.

"Yeah, you?" Ron asked.

Harry swung a leg over his new Firebolt and nodded. They kicked off at the same moment. It felt like freedom, soaring into the cold air. They had nowhere they really needed to be. It was just them, the brooms, and the freedom of flight. Harry grinned, feeling lighter than he had in ages.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

March 23, 2000

_Dear Fred and George,_

_Much has happened since my last letter. I am writing this in a flat above a bar – thank you, by the way, your money is what is paying for it. I don't know what I would have done without the financial resources you two provided for me, though I would much rather you were alive to lend it to me. I know! I'm sorry. I won't mention your deaths again, I know how depressing that is._

_Anyway, I am in London. St. Mungo's reopened, and the Healers in France let me come back. I've still got a few more weeks left of treatment (potions so nasty you would not even believe it), but after that I am free. Free. It has been a year since it happened, and I will finally be free._

_Speaking of freedom, I flew for the first time a couple days ago! Well, for the first time since I left Hogwarts. It felt unbelievable. I went out at night, and the lights below looked like fairy lights. Remember how Mum would decorate the garden at the Burrow with fairy lights sometimes? It looked like that. It was beautiful._

_I'm working on my application to the Auror Academy. I would much rather turn it in now – I don't like to procrastinate the important things. Don't laugh – I've changed! This could change my life forever, I could finally become an Auror. I can help rebuild the world. It's important. Nevertheless, I have to wait another week or two before I get the clean bill of health. Cross your fingers for me._

_I haven't seen anyone. I went to Diagon Alley the other day. I kept my hood up. I am terrified to see them._

_I walked by WWW. It's closed, of course, but would you believe that I saw jets of purple and green smoke coming out of the chimney? It's almost like someone is in there working… Surely Percy wouldn't? Maybe Lee?_

_Anyway, I'd better go. I have my last shift as a bartender in a few minutes (Mr. Swishbaggle is a wonderful man, but even he could no longer excuse how terrible I am at waiting tables and getting drinks and things. Not my calling!)._

_I'll write soon,_

_Love from,_

_Ginny_

02 April 2000

_It's boring waiting for a child to be born._

Harry immediately felt guilty at the thought, glanced over at Mrs. Weasley, hoping that she hadn't learned Legilimency. She was knitting a pair of booties for her future grandchild; apparently being in the waiting room at St. Mungo's did not deter her from this. Everyone else lounged quietly: Hermione was curled up on Ron's lap; Mr. Weasley was pretending to read  _The Daily Prophet_ ; and Charlie, most like his mother in temperament, darned a balaclava.

Still bored, Harry lurched to his feet. Babies took  _hours_  to be born, apparently. For some reason, he'd thought there'd be a magical way to make it easier for witches. And then he'd been quite shocked to realize that magic was apparently useless in childbirth.

Fleur had glared at him when he asked her about this.

"I'm going to… take a walk," he announced.

"Going to take a tour of the closets?" Ron asked innocently. Charlie laughed; Harry cursed Ron for telling pretty much his entire family about Nosy. At least Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were oblivious.

"No," Harry said shortly. "I'm going to stretch my legs."

Without waiting for anyone to ask if he wanted company, Harry left, and turned right outside the door. After a corner or two, he heard screaming, loud streams of swearing in French, and decided to go in the opposite direction. He did not want to be anywhere near Fleur at the moment.

After that, he wandered.

It had been a week since the memorial, and two weeks since Kingsley and Tonks had forced him to step out of the field for a time. Harry was still angry, but he wasn't completely lit up with fury any longer. So what if he had to help out with the trainees for a few months? After his little punishment was over, he'd be right back to it. Trying to find out if the Horcrux had been destroyed… or if there even had been. And helping Ron figure out who had been responsible for the twins' deaths.

That could wait a few months.

Harry was  _tired_ , and maybe the little break would be good for him. The Auror trainees had a few exercises that had to be done at night, but other than those few times, Harry would be able to sleep a night through without being called from his bed.

He could do this.

Harry shouldn't have been surprised that, a little while later, he found himself walking down a familiar corridor. There were a few more people out and about; Healers walked by with regularity, moving purposefully by him, barely even glancing at his scar. The door was open; Harry could see an empty room filled with storage boxes, and another small door that led to a closet.

_Nosy._

The suspicion that Nosy had fallen at the final battle hurt just as much now as it had at the memorial. Harry's belly clenched with it. He was being stupid, he knew; he didn't know Nosy's real name, what she looked like, how old she was… nothing. But he did know that she'd given him warmth and grace, and the thought that she'd never been able to go home again killed him.

Long minutes passed.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry's eyes flew open. "Er—"

"Are you all right?" asked the wizard in Healer robes.

Harry felt like a complete prat. How long had he been standing there? "I'm fine," he said, waving his hand. "I was here during the war… stealing supplies," he added a bit unnecessarily. "I almost got caught in the Web—"

"We've had a lot of problems with that," the Healer said, eyes going round with excitement. "You're lucky none of the wards caught you… that brain scrambler is hard to counter. That's what I've been doing all day."

The man prattled on, obviously made nervous by Harry. One mention of the war, and the Healer's mouth couldn't seem to stop working. And Harry had no one to blame but himself. He'd started the conversation, after all. "Yes, that sounds awful," Harry murmured. "Quite awful."

"—Far more people than we ever expected—"

_When can I escape?_

"—and did you know? It's ludicrous!"

"Uh huh," said Harry. "Completely ludicrous."

"—just like that damn Ministry to make those sorts of—"

At this point, Harry's brain shut off. He no longer had a clue what this short, balding wizard was talking about. He'd gone directly from talking about the various wards and the difficulties in getting it all sorted out, to complaining about the Ministry. Harry contented himself with remembering Nosy pulling him into the closet and having her way with him. A pang of guilt was quickly extinguished.

"—you later, Mr. Potter," said the Healer. Apparently he was done with the conversation.

Harry jerked himself out of a replay of the second time they'd had sex. "Oh… well… good bye, then," he said. "Wait!" he said to the Healer's retreating back. "Do you know where the tea room is?"

"Fifth floor," the Healer said over his shoulder. "Right next to the apothecary."

 _Fifth floor, right next to the apothecary._  Harry gave one final look at the closet before he turned on his heel and made his way to the stairs.  _You've got to stop fantasizing about someone who is probably dead,_ he told himself, feeling his belly clench. It hurt to think of Nosy – funny, brave, and vulnerable Nosy – as dead. But Harry was obviously never going to find her, even if she  _was_  alive.

Four stories of steps went by in a blur. Glancing at his watch, Harry decided he had enough time before he had to go rejoin the Weasleys. He didn't really want or need tea, but it was a useful distraction.

"Excuse me," he murmured to a pair of tittering witches, who had practically thrown themselves in his way. Ignoring their comments, he rounded one final corner, and saw the apothecary. Only one witch stood in line, anxiously digging through her bag, and shaking her head. Her bright red hair—

Harry stood stock still in the center of the corridor. That was  _Weasley_  red hair. His mouth hung open as he waited for her to look up, and he wondered how this was even possible. She was off touring the world, wasn't she? Harry had heard the details so many times. There was nothing she needed in Britain, right?

The witch who might have been Ginny sighed in relief, and pulled out a handful of coins. She looked up from her bag, and Harry let out a low whistle. She was thinner than he'd ever seen her: her cheekbones stood out, and her brown eyes looked huge in her face.

For a few moments – long enough for the man behind the counter to hand her a small vial – Harry just gaped at her.

"Ginny Weasley," he said.

**Author's Note:**

_So I wasn't going to do one of these, but I really ought to have long before this. Some of you are probably very confused as to why I'm reposting an old story. Well, I've felt haunted by this story off and on over the years. Yellow Sub is basically finished (I'm thinking of taking out that last chapter in which Ginny is in trouble, and heading straight to the – mostly written! – epilogue). Refuge of Hope still had a bit of writing left, but I felt like the important bit there was done. Harry is alive. Al is alive. And you just know Al's family and friends have been working on the impossible, and have found the cure for Segnismorenia. As for some of my frothier works (like A Series of Escalating Dares), they just don't have the gravitas to pull me back in._

_But this one. This one was abandoned before it even had a chance. Sure, I wrote some key scenes from way ahead in the story, just so I could have some closure. But a couple weeks ago, I started reading this story and cursed myself for never finishing. The scenes I'd written just weren't enough. I needed to see the whole ride. I think this story has the potential to be one of my favorites. I also think finishing it will have a good impact on my writing (which I feel has suffered since I quit writing fanfic)._

_Anyway. I've changed some things in the story the last few days. The first year Ginny saved is now a girl instead of a boy. I've also taken out some pesky page numbers that sort of ruined the formatting. Hopefully those issues are gone._

_As ever, please drop me a line letting me know what you think of the story._


	11. All the Unsaid Things

02 April 2000

Ginny jerked at the sound of a familiar voice, and almost dropped her potion – the  _last_  of the vile tasting stuff that she'd ever need. The vial almost slipped out of her fingertips, but she caught it just in time. The moment gave her time to gather her suddenly scattered thoughts.

"Hello, Harry," she said finally, looking up. Her heart began playing a Quidditch match in her chest for absolutely no reason. It was just… if Harry was around, wouldn't Ron be also?

He was apparently just as surprised as she was; he opened and closed his mouth several times without speaking. This gave her time to look at him; she hadn't seen him in almost three years, after all, and he had changed a bit since Dumbledore's funeral. Harry was taller and broader; the hard lines of his face made it hard to believe that he had once confessed how scared he was, and had cried on her shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted out, sounding defensive.

Ginny tucked the vial into her pocket. "I live here," she said coolly. Perhaps it wasn't fair of her, but he was enough of a Weasley for her to be angry with him. Deliberately, she took her eyes off him.

"Not in Britain," he said pointedly.

"I do now," she said, thinking of the little flat that Fred and George had unwittingly financed. Small but bright, it reminded her a little of her room at the Burrow, even though it overlooked a busy London street and not a lovely orchard filled with fragrant trees.

"What? Did the world not have anything you needed any longer?" he asked, folding his arms. "Decided to give being home another go?"

 _So that's the way of it_ , thought Ginny. Harry was interrogating her, acting every inch the Auror she hoped to be. His messy hair stood on end, and he must have learned that look from Dumbledore, because she could swear he was looking right into her, and not liking what he saw.

Ginny wondered if his witches of the week encouraged this sort of behavior. Possibly he'd forgotten that she wouldn't take it.

"Something like that, yeah," she said, feigning a casualness she didn't feel. But she'd been frustrated by Moody's charm for almost a year now, and it had made her a decent liar. His eyebrows flew up at her tone. "I figured the war's been over for a while, right? Might as well take a look at the rebuilding effort."

His mouth twisted, and her stomach clenched at the disdain on his face. For a moment, she regretted the scroll she'd sent to Tonks, applying for a position in Auror training. An instant later, she'd stiffened her spine.

"If that's all you wanted to know, I'll see you around, Harry," she bit off, spun on her heel, and marched toward the staircase. When she brushed by him, he made no move to stop her. She could still see the look in his eyes, and it infuriated her.

Her face flooded with color, and she recognized the bitter anger that had been growing inside her since she'd recovered. And even though he wasn't one of her brothers, or her parents, she wanted to attack him.  _Breathe,_  she told herself, when she found her fingers wrapped tightly around her wand.  _Breathe._

"Fleur's having a baby," Harry said, just as she was about to round a corner.

"A baby?" she said blankly, stopping in her tracks.

"It's your brother's baby too," he added unnecessarily.

 _A niece or nephew?_  Ginny's heart skipped a beat again, as she thought of her brother being a dad. The anger fled more easily than it ever had before, completely evaporating as though Harry had magically turned it off. "Wow," she said in a low voice. "Bill's going to be a dad?"

"That's the way it works, they tell me," Harry said.

A little bit of warmth went through her.  _A baby._  Bill had always been the brother she'd most looked up to. She'd been closer to Ron, but she'd wanted to be just like Bill. And now his wife was here at this hospital, delivering a baby.

"Wow," she said again.

Harry eyed her warily, his stance relaxing. He appeared confused by something. "It's… I'm sure everyone would…" he said uncertainly.

It was Ginny's turn to fold her arms. Harry's eyes widened. "You're sure everyone would what?" she asked, attempting to sound pleasant, and only curious. Considering the fact that even  _Harry_  had been mildly hostile, she imagined that her family wasn't too happy with her.

Which was just fine. She was pretty hacked off at them, too.

"They'd want to see you," he said.

"I'll think about it," said Ginny. She left him, then, heading toward the stairs. Attempting not to think at all, she put one foot in front of the other until she was all the way at the bottom on the first floor. Instead, however, of turning right and leaving St. Mungo's, her traitorous feet turned left.

She remembered everything about the last time she'd been in St. Mungo's very clearly. The danger, the potion, the closet… Grumpy…

It took very little time to get to the actual room, and even less to sneak in. It was littered with storage boxes, and when she tested the door that led to the closet, she found it unlatched.  _Just leave,_  she told herself. The last thing she wanted to do was relive what happened in this cramped little area.

But she couldn't deny that that night had changed her life forever. And her brother's life was about to change, too; he was going to be a  _dad._

Ginny tapped her foot and took a few deep breaths. Frankly, she was furious with her family – even if it wasn't fair of her. But… Bill was about to become a father. And Ginny wanted to be there.

Didn't she?

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

02 April 2000

Harry really didn't know what to do.

The security wizard waved at him in a bored sort of way, letting him back into the waiting room with the rest of the Weasleys. Harry nodded at the man, who was leaning against a wall, fiddling with his watch. Fully intending on telling everyone he'd seen Ginny, Harry strode purposefully into the door.

And then stood completely still.

Everyone was exactly as he'd left them. Mrs. Weasley hummed a little as her knitting needles flashed and sparked. Mr. Weasley played with his wife's hair, and gave Harry a smile as he came in. Ron, Hermione, and Charlie had obviously been talking about him; from the smirks on their faces, Harry could guess what they'd been talking about.

But Harry did not even spare a second to roll his eyes and wish, yet again, that he'd never told Ron about Nosy.

Opening his mouth, intending to tell them he'd seen Ginny, he said, "Hi."

"Hi, Harry," Hermione said cheerfully.

_Hi?_

Harry kicked himself as Ron chuckled slyly.

"Find another closet?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"No," Harry said shortly, throwing himself into an empty chair. Mind racing, he tried to think carefully about what he was going to say.  _Your long lost daughter and sister is in the hospital,_  he considered. Or:  _Ginny's back._  Or how about:  _Ginny may or may not come see us, and the baby._

But what if she  _didn't_  come?

Ginny hadn't said she would. She'd turned and walked away. The stunned, happy incredulity at becoming an aunt had slipped off her face, and she'd left him standing in the middle of the corridor like a prat. It hadn't made sense; only about half of the encounter had. At first she'd been cold and distant, but when Harry had tried to ask her why she'd come back, she'd been furious with him. Enough so that he'd actually been worried she'd been about to hex him.

Harry did not want to tell the Weasleys any of these things.

"Did Fleur have the baby?" Harry grunted.

"Yeah, she sure did," Ron said immediately. "That's why we're all still here, and not – you know – making goo goo eyes at the baby."

Harry could have done without the sarcasm; he gripped his wand and was quite satisfied with Ron's yelp of pain when the Stinging Hex hit him. "Prat," he said.

"Boys," Mr. Weasley scolded mildly.

"Sorry," Harry and Ron said together.

Fiddling with the hem of his robe, Harry kept waiting. He was not entirely sure if he was waiting for Bill or for Ginny to walk through those doors.  _I should tell them,_  he decided at least fourteen times. But he kept quiet.

Harry wasn't exactly sure if he'd been honest with Ginny. He was pretty sure that the Weasleys would want to see her. Wouldn't they? Ron, Bill, and Charlie were furious with her for leaving; Harry suspected that Mr. Weasley felt likewise, though he never said anything. But hadn't their anger with her stemmed from her being gone in the first place?

And Harry couldn't deny that he was pretty angry with her as well. Not that he felt abandoned by her or anything; she wasn't his sister, however much the rest of the Weasleys felt like family. But he'd seen how hurt everyone had been by her disappearance and her pitiful little notes, and he simply didn't understand how she could do that.

"Deep thoughts?" Hermione asked, reaching over and poking him in the ribs.

"Oh… no," said Harry. "Not really."

It occurred to him that he could ask Hermione what to do, and he eyed her speculatively. "Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked.

But her reply, whatever it might have been, was lost by a stir of commotion.

"I can't let you in," the security wizard said; his voice was muffled by the door. Harry glanced at the Weasleys; they seemed bored. But if Harry was right about who was trying to get in…

He shot up from his chair, and hurried over to the door.

"Harry, don't even bother," Ron said. "It's probably just some reporter, trying to get a picture of you."

Harry ignored him. A low, feminine voice was arguing with the security wizard. "I'm a Weasley too," said Ginny, just as Harry opened the door. There was a clatter, and Harry suspected that a pair of knitting needles had just hit the floor.

"You aren't on the list," said the security wizard.

"I'm perfectly entitled to—"

"Let her in," said Harry.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Ginny walked into the private waiting room behind Harry. Her heart skipped several beats when she saw most of what was left of her family arrayed on comfortable chairs, chatting comfortably. Her mother and father sat together on a love seat, holding hands. Charlie sat on the floor with his legs stretched out, darning a balaclava. It was so quiet. Ginny's heart squeezed as she thought about the twins, and how they'd've gotten the whole family kicked out by now…

"Harry, were you hoping it was— _Ginny?!"_

Ron's voice cracked on her name.

She looked at him, and smiled faintly. It was good to see him. He was taller than ever, and was nearly as broad as Charlie. He had a scar on his chin… Ginny wondered if he'd been hurt in the Final Battle… she wondered if any of them had.

"Ginny!"

" _Ginny?"_

The balaclava and knitting needles clattered to the floor. Her mother stood up and made an aborted gesture toward her. Ginny stood rooted to the spot, even as Harry moved to stand behind Ron and Hermione.

"Ginny," Molly sighed. "Where have you been?"

"I… South America," Ginny lied boldly. She waited for them to challenge her, to question it. Hopefully the more they questioned her, the more holes in her story they would find. But no one asked about South America. She wished Bill were here – he'd had a penpal from the Wizarding school in Brazil… he'd ask questions…

But no one questioned where or why she had fled the continent. Her shoulders tensed.

"You're home now?" Arthur asked, adjusting his glasses.

"Yes, I have a flat in London, not too far from here," said Ginny.  _Ask me why I haven't come home_ , Ginny ordered them silently.

"It's good to see your face, Ginny," Molly said quietly.

There were about a thousand unsaid things in the room. Ginny could see them on every face in the room. Ron looked mulish; Hermione faintly disapproving; her parents were sad. Charlie looked as though he'd found a stash of U-No-Poo.  _Ask me_ , Ginny begged them.  _Ask me so you'll see I can't answer_. And she could  _see_ on their damn faces that they were holding back a lot of words.

Ginny caught Harry's eyes. He looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but here.

The silence grew into a dreadful, swollen thing.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

A joyful cry pierced the swollen silence.

"It's a girl!" Bill skidded into the room, hair disheveled, eyes wild. Harry had never seen the man quite that undone. He nearly banged into a wall sconce. "We've named her Victoire, because… because…" his voice trailed away when he saw Ginny. All the joy fled from his face when he saw his sister. Harry tried to look away, but couldn't seem to make himself do so. Beside him, Hermione sucked in a breath.

"Well," he said. "Well, well, well."

Ginny flinched.

Harry felt a pang in his stomach. This had not been one of his brighter ideas. In fact, he couldn't name very many decisions he'd made in his life that had been worse than this one. Going to the Ministry during his fifth-year, yes. Allowing Mad-Eye to require so many security precautions for the Order… yes. But this one. This one was terrible, and he hadn't seen it coming.

"I can't believe you came here," Bill said coldly.

"Well, I…" Ginny's throat worked.

Surely Harry had been in more awkward situations. He had, hadn't he? Damned if he could think of one at the moment. He cast a panicked look at Hermione. Could they escape? She must have read his thoughts, for she pursed her lips and shook her head slightly.

"What are you doing here? You're gone for  _months_  having a selfish temper tantrum, and you decide to come back and ruin what should be one of the happiest days of my life? I can't even—"

"Bill," Molly said. Harry privately thought she should have stopped Bill much sooner.

"No, let him talk, Mum," said Ginny. She folded her arms across her chest. "He's obviously got some shit he needs to get off his chest."

Bill jabbed a finger at her. "Yeah, I've got shit to get off my chest. The rest of us were fighting a  _war_ , Ginny, and you decide that you've had enough, that you'd take  _my dead brothers' money_ and swan off to God knows where—"

"She said South America," Ron pointed out.

"Yeah, and it was fucking fantastic," Ginny's voice was on the verge of a shout. Harry looked at her. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes were glassy, and somehow her wand had got in her hand.

"Children," Arthur's voice cracked like a whip. "You will  _not_  do this here."

"But she—"

"Bill." Arthur's tone of voice brooked no argument. "Either speak quietly – and  _without swearing_ , if you please – or don't say anything at all. This is not up for debate."

"Please," added Molly. There were tears on her cheeks.

"Ginny, I…" Bill looked at her. Harry hoped he was on the verge of an apology. His hopes were dashed in the very next second. "I wish you hadn't come."

The words fell like stones in the silence.

"Bill, that was unfair," Harry said, unable to help himself.

"Stay out of it, Harry," said Bill. He spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm going to go back and visit with my wife and daughter." He shot Ginny a poisonous look. "If anyone cares, she's 7lbs even, and looks just like her mother. But I realize the princess is home, so it'll be all about Ginny—"

"I'll leave," Ginny said wearily. "I didn't know that you didn't – I'll just leave."

"Ginny, you…" Molly started to say something, but her voice drifted away. Ginny looked at her mother for a long moment, nodded slightly, and turned.

Harry wanted to go after her, to apologize, to say something to make up for that ugly scene. If he'd known… he kicked himself. He hadn't had any idea it would go like that. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. How stupid he had been to assume things would go well… he'd known they'd been muttering against her for months, but he'd guessed they would get over it rather quickly… or at least not make a public scene…

How wrong he'd been.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Ginny walked blindly out of the room, unable to quite believe how badly that had gone. They were so  _furious_ with her. A part of her was just as furious at them. Had she really been that selfish when she was younger? God, it hurt. It hurt. Ginny was halfway down the stairs when she realized tears were sliding down her face. Blindly, she marched forward, not really thinking about where she was going, just trying to find a place she could sit and be quiet for a moment, and pull herself together.

She found the door, and entered it. Once it was shut, she sank down onto the floor… the same floor she'd spent hours with Grumpy. At the thought of him, wishing he were here again, Ginny buried her head in her hands, and cried.

**Author's Note**

_This was a very difficult chapter to write, for what I feel are obvious reasons. I wanted it to look a little like the Percy scene in Deathly Hallows, except even more horrible because there is no apology forthcoming from Ginny. Let me know what you think, please? This one made me feel particularly vulnerable whilst writing it. Also, guys, I finished Yellow Submarine! It's totally complete!_


	12. Acceptance

05 April 2000

"Your move," said Harry, nudging Ron with his foot. His own chess pieces were getting restless. Ron's were on the verge of mutiny.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," said Ron.

Rain pattered against the windows of Harry's small cottage. It was a cozy morning. He, Ron, and Hermione all wore sweaters, a fire was built in the grate, and Hermione had an old afghan draped over her legs. Three cups of coffee steamed on mismatched end tables.

"I just can't believe Ginny was at St Mungo's!" Ron burst out.

Harry and Hermione traded a glance. It had been three days, and this was not Ron's first outburst. A couple times a day, he would get quiet and distracted, and then, like someone had got him with a Stinging Hex, he would blurt out something about St. Mungo's, or Ginny, or little sisters who disappeared when they were needed, and reappeared when they weren't.

Harry was a little weary of both listening to Ron natter on, and biting his tongue against saying what he really thought.

"After all this time—"

"I know, Ron," Hermione said soothingly.

"It's just... why'd she—"

"Who knows?"

Keep your mouth shut, keep your mouth shut, Harry squeezed his eyes closed for a second, then tried to focus on the chess game. He was winning for once... he needed to take advantage of Ron's distraction...

"And Ginny, she just—"

"Give it a rest, Ron!" Harry said sharply. He slammed down his bishop, who responded by making a gesture at him that would not belong in any church Harry'd ever heard of. "Sorry," he muttered.

Ron gaped at him. "If you're tired of—"

But Harry would not let him finish. "It's not that I'm tired of hearing you talk about it — I mean, don't get me wrong, I am — it's not only that, but I think you've got it wrong. Or at least, mostly wrong."

Ron sputtered. "Pardon?"

"I've been sitting here, trying not to say anything, but the way you guys treated Ginny was wrong," Harry said with dignity. "Maybe not you, but Bill."

"We weren't wrong, she was!" Ron said, outraged.

"He told her to get out, when she came by to see your family, and he said other horrid things to her," said Harry. "It was ugly," he added quietly.

For a long minute, his eyes held Ron's. The only sound was the fire crackling in the hearth. Harry wondered if Hermione had ceased to breathe. But Harry was right, and he knew it. The Weasleys had lost so much. The family was devastated. Shadows flickered over Ron's face, giving it a haunted look, as though he were being tormented. And maybe he was; Harry had no siblings, maybe it was more trouble than it was worth. He could see that thought in Ron's eyes — what did Harry know? He hasn't got any siblings! — but he never voiced it.

"You're right," Harry said, as though Ron had spoken out loud. "I don't have any siblings, so I don't really get it. I also don't get why you want to throw away a perfectly good sister." Unbidden, a memory surfaced... of Ginny comforting Harry the night Dumbledore died. He had nearly forgotten how wonderful she'd been. So much time had passed. The thought made him inexplicably uncomfortable, and he shoved it away.

"I don't want to throw her away, but—"

"But nothing, Ronald!" Hermione finally intervened, and Harry shot her a grateful look. "Harry's right, and you know it. That scene at St. Mungo's. It was awful. No wonder it took her so long to come home."

"She didn't even come home," Ron argued, but Harry could tell it was just for appearance's sake. The wind had gone out of his sails.

"Who would come home just to be attacked?" Hermione said waspishly. "I certainly wouldn't. All of you need a chance to sit down and work it out. That won't happen if you're screaming at her to get out."

"Yeah," Harry chimed in. Both swiveled their heads to glare at him. "Right," he said, standing up. "I'll leave you two to work this out." And despite the fact it was his own cottage, Harry retreated to give them privacy. He felt better somehow, as though some weight had lifted off his shoulders. He had done the right thing, telling Ron off, and Hermione would finish him off.

Excellent.

06 April 2000

It was past time to go home. The Ministry of Magic had been emptied of most of its workers. It felt empty. In any given day, there were hundreds of workers, making all sorts of noise, but at night it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Magical Maintenance would be by later, but for now it was quiet. Too quiet. In the Auror Department, it was the quietest. There'd been a surge of magical activity in the north of Ireland, and Tonks had sent three Aurors just in case. Another two were investigating strange rumors revolving around a Muggle carnival of all things. Three more were consulting with MACUSA – and why had MACUSA needed a consultant from them, in the first place?! The British Auror Department was depleted… Tonks couldn't afford those three Aurors.

Tonks sat at her desk, staring at the mounds of parchment. The headache that had been threatening all day erupted. She jerked, and managed to knock over a cup of water, and a pen-holder. "Damn," she muttered. She had taken to talking to herself when alone, a habit brought over from the days in which she'd been muffled by Moody's curse. It served her well on nights like these, when she was held at work. She needed to get home to her baby…

The orbs lighting the room dimmed to a soft glow, a signal that it was now six o'clock in the evening. Tonks rubbed her eyes, massaged the back of her neck, and tried – again – to perform a miracle.

The Auror Department had been gutted. Tonks needed  _at least_ ten more Aurors, and twenty more if she could work it. For a moment, she was tempted to bring back ? and ?, an Auror and trainee who had famously had an inappropriate relationship and had both been fired. Maybe she'd been too hard on them? But that was the protocol… not that they be fired, per se, but their reaction to being reprimanded had been so cataclysmic, that Tonks had not wanted them on the force. "Unstable people," she muttered.

She leaned back in her chair, rolling her quill between the palms of her hands. Even Harry's radio interview had only yielded nineteen viable candidates. Her inbox had been flooded, of course, but most of the applicants had been nutters. If she even just had one more…

As though her thoughts conjured it, a large paper airplane soared into the room, landed on her desk, and briskly unfolded itself. Tonks let out a little scream of excitement. It was an Auror application. "Don't be a nutter, don't be a nutter, don't be a nutter," she chanted.

It wasn't a nutter.

Tonks sat back in her chair, brows knit. Well. Ginny Weasley wanted to be an Auror. Not only that, but she made a good case for it. NEWTs were incomplete — but that was typical with the war, and classes at the ATA were prepared with that in mind. Not only that, but Tonks knew Ginny. Ginny'd been a strong fighter.

But.

Indecision warred within her. She needed strong witches and wizards. But did she need to earn the enmity of the Weasleys? Her friends? She'd heard from a very drunk Charlie — who'd been out with Tulip Karasu, and the two of them had decided they needed to call on their old friend Tonks — what had happened at St. Mungo's.

But.

The attitudes of her friends shouldn't dictate how Tonks did her job.

But.

The Weasleys were practically family.

But.

Ginny was of age, and legally capable of making her own decisions.

As Tonks tripped over her own thoughts, she was scanning Ginny's application. Her OWL scores were excellent, and she'd taken all the recommended courses in her sixth, and most of her seventh year. The only thing that concerned Tonks was the missing year... and Tonks didn't know if she was concerned because Ginny'd been her friend, or if she was just curious...

She reached inside her desk, and pulled out a sample packet of Truth Powder, one of the new products in development at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes (I guess it's my night for estranged Weasleys, Tonks thought guiltily). She shook it onto the scroll. All the little bits of powder turned blue — it would turn red if anything written had been a lie. But some of the blue had turned a more purply shade, as though it might be a half truth.

Recent activities and locations: a sanitarium in France, travel, and an address not too far from where Tonks sat. She knew the place. Rowan Khanna had gone there to recover after the incident in their fifth year. A nervous breakdown, Tonks thought it was called. Rowan had been trapped in a Red Cap's lair. It hadn't hurt her, but it had taken much too long for them to find her... her parents had taken her to France, and Rowan had returned a few months later, quiet and subdued, but no longer plagued by night terrors.

She rolled her wand between her palms. Immersed in the memory of her own youthful adventures, it was easy for her to understand why Ginny had to go away. The news out of Hogwarts had been fairly brutal. The pure-bloods had been safe, but Ginny and her friends had always taken risks... much like Tonks, Eleison, Tulip, Bill, and Charlie had. Any number of things could have happened...

Her heart squeezed.

Her mind was almost fully made up, but Tonks wanted to run it by one more person... the most important person.

She grabbed her traveling cloak off its stand, and scurried through the labyrinthine tunnels of the Ministry, up the elevator, and entered the Atrium just as Magical Maintenance was about to close the grates for the night. "Wait!" She called breathlessly. Her feet caught on her cloak and she stumbled her way toward the last fireplace. She grabbed a handful of green powder, threw it into the flames, stepped in, and shouted "Lupin Lair!"

It always embarrassed her to shout that in front of people, but her husband and son seemed to think it an excellent joke. Tonks watched as wizarding households whirled by, and finally launched herself toward her kitchen. She landed flat on her back, the wind knocked out of her.

"Rough day?" Remus asked sympathetically.

"Not so bad," said Tonks, picking herself up. A small, blue-haired missile launched itself at her. Tonks caught her son, swung him around, and covered his mischievous little face with kisses. "My day is so much better now!"

Tonks ignored the weight of the scroll and went through their cozy evening routine: dinner, then a walk, then a bath, a story, and songs before bed. "Just one more," yawned Teddy, eyes drooping. So Tonks brushed the blue hair out of his face, and sang "Three Little Broomsticks" once more.

Once the child was asleep, Tonks tossed the scroll at her husband and threw herself on the sofa. "So Ginny Weasley wants to be an Auror," she said into the pillow.

"That's... unexpected," Remus said mildly. He sat on the edge of the couch, and laid his hand on her bum.

"I'm going to approve her application," said Tonks. "Do you think I should?"

"That's... unexpected," Remus said mildly. He sat on the edge of the couch, and laid his hand on her bum.

"I'm going to approve her application," said Tonks. "Do you think I should?"

He squeezed her bum. "I think you should do what you want," he said. "She's fairly powerful, and has quick reflexes. She was a good student when I had her—"

"—in second year—"

"And I lived in the same house as her for an entire summer, she's a good witch..."

His fingers were now tickling her sides, and tugging at the pants under her robes.

Tonks was about to ask him why he thought Ginny left, but her pants were now off, and she no longer wanted to pursue this line of questioning. She would ask him later... (her underwear landed in a heap on the floor)... or maybe not... she'd hire Ginny Weasley tomorrow...

Remus's clever fingers found a clever spot, and Tonks gave up trying to think. And even after all this time, her husband's love-making drove her to forget all but her name.

But what she did forget turned out to be far more interesting than her name.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

08 April 2000

Dear Auror Academy Candidate,

Congratulations on being accepted to the Auror Training Academy! The four month program you are about to undertake is demanding both physically and mentally, and will require extensive effort on your part if you are to successfully complete each phase.

At the end, you will be required to pass your P.O.W.E.R. exam with "Exceeds Expectations" in each category. Enclosed in this packet, you will find a copy of your rulebook, which outlines the policies and protocols required of you, and Auror Trainee. Please note the section on trainee robes, and special equipment (all of which can be found in Diagon Alley). You are expected to be wearing your trainee robes when you disembark the train at the training facility in the Orkney Islands. Your train leaves London at 11 at night from Platform 11 and 7/8.

The Academy will be an exciting time in your life as you embark on a rewarding career at the rebuilt Ministry of Magic. We need each and every one of you, so come prepared to work hard.

Sincerely,

Head of the Auror Department

Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin

PS Good luck, Ginny!

**Author's Note:**

_At last! Socks (or Memory and Sorrow, as we must now call it) has finally become what it has always meant to be: a naughty H/G Auror training fic! 50,000 words have led to this point. Nine years have led to this point. I've been trying and trying to get here, where they can just GET IT ON already!_

_Hahahaha_

_I'm joking._

_(No, I'm not really joking)_

_I'm really not joking. Nine YEARS! Harry and Ginny are going to have so much delicious, forbidden sex! I am so excited to write it!_

_Okay, but also, today I had THE epiphany of how I was going finish this Socks-y juggling act. There are a lot of balls (hehe) in the air, and I was unsure really how I was going to finish it without dropping any of them. And I figured that out this morning (there was so much cackling. SO MUCH CACKLING). I was cackling so much I don't think I was even very coherent with my alpha reader, the extraordinary and brilliant Mel (mhersheybar, read her stuff, you will love it). I quoted Slughorn, for god's sake. She might have thought I was having a fit. ANYWAY. I have figured out how it all comes together. And you know what? I honestly suspect my subconscious has been cookin it for a long time, because it feels right. SO. I hope you will enjoy that when it comes. I'm almost more excited for that than I am the sex (I'm lying again)._

_Tell me what you think! I'm going to try to get the next chapter out in a timely manner._

_Anyone else hoping my subconscious has been workin on a little somethin-somethin for Backward with Purpose III: Voldemort Strikes Back? (That's what it's called, right? It's been a while)._

_Look, don't make me beg for reviews, okay?_


	13. Strangers on a Train

08 April 2000 – 13 April 2000

It was a busy several days for Ginny. Her acceptance into the Auror Training Academy was celebrated in private, in her little room above the pub. Then she threw herself into motion: she spent a few days scouring Diagon Alley for what she needed (it was not nearly as simple a task as the form letter and handbook made it out to be), and had to venture into Knockturn Alley for a few potions ingredients. A part of her felt self-conscious, heading into one of the little shops… there were bleached skulls from all sorts of animals hanging from the ceiling ("It's like they're just deliberately trying to be creepy," Ginny muttered.). She purchased her ingredients, and swept out of the store.

Diagon Alley was brighter, and Ginny wandered it even though she'd finished her shopping. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes drew her eye, of course. The paint needed an update, but the storefront was clean and bright nevertheless. The sign in the window flashed "CLOSED" but there was a handwritten sign: "WORKING ON INVENTORY. MAIL ORDERS ONLY." Ginny had taken a few steps forward, only to be disappointed. A thought, half-formed, had occurred to her: if she couldn't go to the Burrow, she could at least meet with Percy again. The betrayal she'd experienced when he'd abandoned the family felt like a long time ago.  _After Auror Training Academy,_ Ginny thought firmly.  _I'll find Percy after I've gone through training and taken my POWERs._

The rest of the days passed swiftly. Ginny packed and repacked her trunk. She reviewed a few memoirs written by various Aurors that she'd found at Flourish and Blotts. She considered writing a letter to her parents. She  _did_ write a letter to her parents, and discarded it. She finally wrote a letter to the twins.

 _Dearest twins,_ she wrote.

_Tonks sent me a letter welcoming me to the Auror Training program. Well, I don't know if it was Tonks, precisely, it was a form letter. But she did write a personal note at the end, wishing me luck. I don't think I need luck when I go through the Academy – how bad could it be? What I do need is luck in talking to our family._

_They're so angry with me, you wouldn't believe it. I'm not going to review what happened here – it's too depressing. I hope you two are in a joyful, happy place, and I don't want to bring you down by telling you that Bill shouted at me to "GET OUT!" in a public place. I'm the one who is supposed to be angry, here! They're the ones who've … dropped me. They didn't even look for me; they just assume I'm an asshole._

_Oops. I didn't mean to write that. You two are just so easy to rant at – always have been. I wish you could cajole me out of this. Or at least help me play a prank on Bill. I think charming all the hair off the top of his should do it. We could transplant it to his bum. Remember when you did that to Roger Davies? That was brilliant._

Ginny let the words pour out of her. It was amazingly easy to write to her dead brothers. She let out a giggle. She hoped they didn't read her mail at Auror Training Academy.

Once it was dark out, Ginny shrunk her trunk, put it in her pocket, and hailed a cab to King's Cross. She'd already packed up all her things, and left it in a basement storage area that the Swishwaggles had graciously allowed her to use. Her goodbyes had been said. She was ready.

In fact, she was ready far too early. She wandered the train station, remembering all the times she'd come here as a child – every year since she'd been born, she'd been here to wave off her brothers. And she'd been there to greet them when they came home. She wandered past Platform 9 ¾. Inexplicably, her thoughts turned to Harry Potter, and the first time she'd ever seen him. He'd been small, and black-haired, and had looked nervous.

Ginny wiped her sweaty palms on her Muggle outfit. She was nervous, too.

 _What would Grumpy think?_ Ginny asked herself, bracingly. Grumpy had braved St. Mungo's at the height of the war, when the consequences for getting caught were so dire. That had been so very real, and so very terrifying. Ginny was not at any risk of dying should she wash out of the Auror program. The danger wasn't real. She'd experience a bit of personal embarrassment, and she'd find another career…

Her heartbeat calmed, and Ginny walked on.

Platform 11 and 7/8 was at the very end of the gigantic train station. Only half the lights were on, and very few people milled about. Still, Ginny was watchful as she leaned against the platform wall. To her relief, she sank into it immediately, and emerged in a small outdoor waiting area. It was open to the weather, and Ginny was relieved she'd worn a thick Muggle jacket. The train was already there – a sleek looking thing that was as unlike the Hogwarts Express as it was possible to be.

"Oi, hullo!" a uniformed witch waved to her out an open window. "Here for the Auror Program, are you? You're early! You can come on in, if you like, and choose your compartment… you'll have a sleeper room all to yourself. It's a long trip… you might as well get comfortable."

Ginny nodded gratefully, and got on the train. She looked around approvingly. It was bigger on the inside than on the outside, and filled with comfortable-looking furniture. She wandered down the aisle and into the first sleeper car. Little rooms led off to each side. Ginny peeked into one: it was small and cozy. The bed had what looked to be a handmade quilt. A candelabra stood on a little bedside table. She shut the door again, and moved on. She didn't want to take the first room in the first car; she'd head on toward the back, where fewer people were likely to journey. The third room in the seventh car would provide her plenty of privacy, Ginny decided, and headed in.

Being in the sanitarium had given Ginny a healthy sense of caution whilst sleeping. Once, toward the end of her recovery, she'd woken to find another patient sitting at her bed, staring at her. Remembering that moment, she set a few wards. Feeling slightly less anxious, she got into her pajamas, and got into bed. She had a big few months ahead of her… she might as well sleep when she could…

Ginny was asleep on the train before the rest of the trainees even arrived at King's Cross.

She slept deeply for a long time, before some instinct woke her. The instant she opened her eyes, her wand started buzzing. She closed her fingers around it and whispered, "Lumos". The compartment was dark as midnight, but that didn't mean much, as they were heading into the far north… night lasted so much longer than it did in London. Ginny felt well-rested, as though she'd slept for hours. The train rocked and swayed lightly on the tracks, and she nearly fell over trying to get out of bed. She opened her trunk, pulled out a trainee robe, and tugged it over her head.

Her Supersensory Charm started a low hum. She could hear strange, echoe-y footsteps, and a quiet voice. "There's one more," it said. "All the rest of them huddled together at the front, this one was smarter."

"If you hadn't left the trainee list on the island, we'd know who it was," someone else pointed out.

"You could have brought it, too," the first person accused. "Some instructor  _you're_ going to be."

"Shhh, we don't want them to hear us argue."

Ginny's stance relaxed slightly. These were either instructors, hoping to teach their first lesson on vigilance, or they were the bumbling types of dark wizards. She tapped her wand on her leg, and mouthed the Disillusionment Charm. Gooseflesh erupted on her arms and neck as the charm wrapped around her body. Uncomfortable, that. She whispered " _Nox"_ and the light from her wand went out.

"Where  _is_ the trainee?"

"Do  _homenum revelio_."

"Oh, that's a good idea. The first one—"

"Don't say it."

"Sorry. You're right. We need to start this off on the right foot…"

Ginny's shoulders tightened. She  _knew_ those voices, had heard them bantering with each other for what felt like half her life. Ron… and Harry. She took a couple of deep breaths. Well, this… complicated things.

" _Homenum revelio!_ "

It did not take long for Harry's magic to find her. It curled around her body, and went back the way it came.

"Ah! There they are."

The door to the compartment slid open silently. It was still so dark that it looked like two lit wands, divorced from any witch or wizard, bobbed their way into the room on their own accord. Ginny held her breath.

"Where is she?" asked Ron. Ginny slipped behind him.

With a deft flick of her wand, she cast a Jelly-Legs Jinx, and dropped the Disillusionment Charm. "I'm right here," she said. Her brother swore loudly, and quickly muttered the counter spell.

"Damn it, Ginny!" he swore.

"That's a nice greeting," she said in a hard voice. "Are we going to have a repeat of St. Mungo's? Are you going to tell me to get the fuck out?"

Harry must have muttered a spell, for the lights in the compartment came on. "No one's going to tell you to get the fuck out, Ginny," he said. He elbowed Ron. " _Right, Ron?_ "

Ginny smirked when she saw the red flush climb from his neck to his cheeks. "Maybe you should've remembered to not only  _bring_ the class list, but  _open it_  and read it. Then maybe you wouldn't have the shit scared out of you by your little sister."

"To be fair, we—"

Ron cut Harry off. "So you want to be an Auror now?" He sounded angry and confused and maybe a little embarrassed.

"No, I'm on the train for fun, I hear the Orkney Islands are beautiful when they're covered with twenty feet of snow," said Ginny. She was being too sarcastic… too mean… but ahhhh, it felt so good. "Yes, Ron, I applied for the Auror program, and was accepted. And now I'm here. I take it you two are instructors?"

"Not instructors," Harry put in. "More like overseers. You'll see, it's a little different." He made an exaggerated gesture toward the door. "We're about to have everyone head to the dining car so we can go over what you can expect the next few months," he added. It sounded like a practiced speech.

Ron was still staring at her. She glared back at him.

"We need to get to the dining car," Harry repeated. "It's good to see you, Ginny. I'm glad you're part of the program."

"Then you can have her," Ron said suddenly. "She can be in your half of the group." He turned on Ginny. "You won't get any special treatment from me, Ginny, just because I'm your brother."

Part of her wanted to point out that if she were given special treatment from one of her brothers, it would not be a positive thing. The ugly scene at St. Mungo's had proven that. She didn't need special treatment, just a chance. "Fine," Ginny said coolly. "That's just fine."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"So we'll work you hard the next four months, I hope you're prepared," Harry finished his little speech. The trainees had their eyes fixed on him, and it made him slightly uncomfortable. Especially when one of those trainees was Ginny. He was still stunned that she'd joined the Auror program. He didn't think she'd ever expressed interest in being an Auror… joining the Order of the Phoenix, yes, but he hadn't expected her to want to help rebuild.

She sat in the middle of the crowd. The morning light caught on her hair. It was several hours since he and Ron had found her. They'd let the trainees go back to sleep for a few hours, woke them to eat, then divided them in half and split up.

"Any questions?"

"Yeah… just one," said a dark-haired man with a cleft in his chin. "How'd you defeat Voldemort," he asked eagerly.

Harry cleared his throat. "Any questions  _about the Auror program_?" he clarified.

There was a long, disappointed silence.

"What's the daily routine like?" Ginny asked.

"You're up at six, and we'll meet in the courtyard at 6:30. We'll do some wandwork, and maybe a little strength training – you'd be surprised how often you need to chase down your nutters. Then we have breakfast and go over the day. Then you have classes until lunch. After lunch we do practical lessons – ideally, we'll want to go over what you learned that day… you're done by four," Harry told them. "Saturdays are strictly practical lessons, and individual meetings. Sundays you have off."

The trainees were nodding thoughtfully.

"Can we leave the island at all, or…?" a young-looking, white-haired witch asked.

"You can, but we'd prefer you not to," said Harry. "You're all adults… well, I hope you are, otherwise  _someone_  wasn't doing her job. But six comes early, and it's better if you stick around. You'll see."

A few more questions, and Harry was ready to wrap it up. "I think we're done," he said. "I'd like you to review your handbook. We should be on the island in another five hours."

Harry nodded, and walked out of the room. He nearly walked right into Ron, who was leaning on the wall, looking unusually serious. "How'd it go?"

Harry shrugged. "It went fine."

Ron sighed. "I told Hermione what was going on, she's not as surprised as I am."

Harry felt an inexplicable pang. "She wasn't?" he asked.

"Says Ginny'd talked about being an Auror sometimes…"

Harry could guess what Ron was thinking. It had been three years since they'd spent much time at all with Ginny – it felt bizarre to be surprised by her career choices. The war and the passage of time had turned her into a stranger. Ginny, a stranger. He'd been falling for her in his sixth year, and now she was a stranger. To him, and to her own family.

Ron shoved himself off the wall. "Oh well… why don't we go find a coffee? And maybe go over what we want to do for tomorrow's lesson."

"Did Hermione suggest that?" Harry teased.

Ron pretended offense. "You think I couldn't come up with it on my own?"

They bantered down the narrow aisle.

To Harry's own surprise, he realized that he may enjoy being an instructor after all.


	14. Anticipation

April 20, 2000 – May 02, 2000

The first few weeks of the Auror program were comprised of the hardest work Ginny had ever done. The classes were taxing, mentally; she'd taken to studying during her breakfast. Her potions instructor had the strict attention to detail of Professor Snape combined with the personalities of Fred and George. The combination was truly dizzying. Harry also kept her troop going through the paces. Every afternoon, he had them apply what they were learning in class, and put it into a real world context for them. It was physically and mentally exhausting... Ginny fell into bed each night and slept like a rock until the alarm blared.

She had not been happier since before the war.

Week one was more introductory than anything — Harry tested their reflexes, while the professors tested their knowledge. ("Excellent, trainee," Ginny heard, several times, each more gratifying than the last). The second week, they were thrown into learning so many new things that Ginny's head spun. But she got used to it. She got acclimated.

On a Sunday two weeks into training, Ginny wrote to the twins and told them everything. It was late afternoon when she headed to the owlery. Everyone was either napping or had gone home for the weekend. Ginny hummed to herself as she walked; so certain was she that she was alone, that she dropped into a battle crouch every once in a while, then turned it into a dance, adding a pirouette every once in a while, just to keep it fun.

"Your form looks good," said Harry.

Ginny, in the middle of a spin, nearly dropped her letter. He stood not ten feet away. She smiled at him. "I'm learning from the best," she said cheerfully. "Though I suppose I wasn't being very vigilant."

Harry smiled back. "Don't worry, I won't tell. Where are you headed, anyway?"

"To the owlery, to send off my letter to the twins," Ginny said, before she remembered that writing to the twins made her sound like a complete nutter. A horrible flush stung her cheeks. "I mean — I mean—"

She stood her ground, and didn't look away. I'm not a nutter, I'm not a nutter, she chanted inwardly. He looked a little sad.

"I wish I'd thought of that," Harry blew out a breath. "It must be very therapeutic."

Ginny nodded, her horrible flush receding. "It is, you know. I can talk to them... tell them things..."

Ginny remembered suddenly that she'd once been able to talk to Harry, to tell Harry things. Being at Hogwarts felt so very long ago. She fiddled nervously with her robes. The silence stretched for a bit, feeling more and more awkward.

"Yeah, I can see the appeal," Harry moved a little closer. "You know how Dumbledore's death tore me up... if I'd thought of writing him... get my thoughts out... pretend he'd have those impossibly wise replies winging their way toward me..."

The awkwardness had fled. Ginny knew he was thinking of that late night in the common room, when they'd held each other and cried. She'd fallen a little more in love— but she halted that train of thought right there. Dangerous thoughts, Ginny told herself.

"I do it because I know whatever I say, the twins will — the twins would make me laugh." Ginny shook her head impatiently. "I'm not a nutter, I swear. I know they're gone, I just—"

"I know," said Harry.

Ginny looked at him, and knew he understood perfectly. Time and distance had not quite managed to sap all their friendship away.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

07 May, 2000

For the most part, his and Ron's troops did not mingle in the afternoons, but today was special. Today they were practicing aerial maneuvers, and he and Ron decided it would be more fun (for them) if they were all together. Both of their troops had lost people: Harry only had eight, and Ron had nine. So it was almost a Quidditch team on both sides.

The large trunk they'd brought out rocked back and forth. He and Ron had bewitched Quaffles to attack (they'd almost used Bludgers, but decided there was lower risk for real injury with Quaffles). He could not resist the urge to rub his hands together with glee.

He glanced at the trainees, standing at attention, holding their brooms. Ginny was in the front row, looking nearly as gleeful as he felt. "You're learning aerial maneuvering today. There's only one rule: avoid the Quaffles!"

Ron released them, and the trainees shot into the air.

Harry watched them go, eyes lingering on Ginny. She was clearly the best, and Harry was not surprised. He remembered how good she'd been at Hogwarts... she'd been the life and soul of the Quidditch team, Ginny. And she was even more beautiful now—

"Stop it," Harry muttered. How could he think that, when he still hadn't given up on Nosy? And it was grossly unfair to Nosy to think Ginny beautiful... Harry did not even know what Nosy truly looked like...

"Stop what?" Ron looked at him oddly.

"Nothing. Just thought I saw a trainee about to tumble," Harry lied feebly.

Ron nodded, then gestured to the sky. "She's really good. I forgot how good she was."

Harry looked at Ginny again, and felt another pang of guilt: her robes had ridden up, and when she leaned forward, Harry caught a glimpse of her shapely bum. A few short years ago, all he'd been able to think about was that bum... maybe that's why he couldn't look away...

Harry forced his eyes off her, and got his head back in the game.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

19 May 2000

Ginny dodged and weaved her way to the end of the obstacle course. She was the first, and Harry clapped. She nodded to him, and dropped to the ground, panting for breath.

"That was evil," she moaned, rubbing her eyes. Ginny peeked at him, he was grinning proudly.

"You were brilliant, though!" He said.

Ginny just groaned. Harry and Ron and the rest of the professors had gone all out, turning a nearby island into an obstacle course filled with wicked puzzles and booby traps. Everything they had learned in the last month had been needed. And Ginny was exhausted.

She felt him sit down next to her, but did not open her eyes.

"I saw you over the knife chasm, and you were great," Harry offered.

"Thanks," Ginny murmured. She cracked her eye open again. "Which ones did you come up with? The boggart?"

"That, and a couple others, most noticeably the fog. I'd intended everyone to use the Patronus Charm to get through it," Harry nudged her foot.

Ginny was quiet. The Patronus Charm had been the most exciting thing they'd learned as part of Dumbledore's Army. Ginny had been so proud to learn it. She'd summoned it nearly every night for a week.

"I haven't tried the Patronus Charm in years," Ginny said, sitting up, and brushing her hair out of her eyes. She could see Harry watching her closely.

She looked at him. They had another moment of accord, where she knew he understood that she had not tried in years because she was afraid she could no longer produce a happy enough thought.

"I know you can do it," Harry said quietly.

Ginny did not really want to find out, but she'd never been a coward. She stood, and brushed off the seat of her robes. Drawing her wand, she tried to think of a happy thought... what would work? That one? No, too weak. And not that one either. Finally she pushed Moody's curse into a dusty corner of her mind, and jumbled everything good together: saving Barrow, falling for Grumpy, finding her way back to a friendship with Harry, the fact of her own survival despite her illness, being accepted into the Auror program, and being quite good at it... Ginny focused on all of those things at once...

"Expecto Patronum," she said.

A light flashed, momentarily blinding her. Ginny's heart soared. She'd done it, she could produce a Patronus! She looked at it, expecting to see her mare...

It was a Phoenix. A silvery, glowing Phoenix. It was so beautiful, it took Ginny's breath away. Tears sprang into her eyes.

Her eyes met Harry's. "It's beautiful, Gin, but is there something you aren't telling me about your feelings for Dumbledore?"

Ginny huffed out a laugh. "No," she said. "No. This is its own thing."

She turned to watch her Patronus. It was showing off for her and Harry, whirling, swooping, diving. It was beautiful... the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen...

"Thanks, Harry."

"You're welcome."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

May 24, 2000

Ginny knocked on the door.

"Enter," said Harry. He looked up, surprised to see her, then at his watch. "Damn, Gin, I'm sorry. I forgot we had our meeting today."

Ginny hovered in the doorway. "Need me to come back?"

"Noooo," he said slowly. "I'm finishing this up, then I can start."

Ginny sat in front of his desk. He looked exhausted and worried, and not at all like the grown up Harry she'd come to know over the last few weeks.

"Everything okay?" she asked softly.

Harry put his head in his hands and groaned. "I just feel... it's been... the war ended a year ago, but it's just not..." he eyed her sharply. "What do you know of Voldemort? Did you know he made Horcruxes? Do you know what Horcruxes are?"

Moody's curse slammed down in her mind, and all Ginny could do was stare at him blankly.

"Of course not," Harry muttered. Then he proceeded to tell her the whole story. Parts of it she already knew... but much of it she didn't. Harry spoke himself hoarse, and the light coming from the window had changed.

Ginny cried when he told her he, Harry, had been a Horcrux... one made unintentionally when Voldemort tried to kill him as a baby.

"Oh, Harry," she said shakily. "I'm so sorry. So sorry."

"It was worth it," said Harry.

She reached out and laid her hand on his. They both stared at it. "I'm grateful you defeated him, but I wish you hadn't had to pay such a high price."

"Thank you, Ginny," he said. "I'm not the only one who paid such a high price... we're all just... struggling. I just wish I knew for sure it was over. I feel like it's over, but I can't be sure... we never found that damn Ravenclaw tiara Horcrux. If I could just find it... then I'd know if he was really gone. That it was really over. That we could all breathe..."

Ginny looked at him, her heart breaking.

The moment the damn curse is broken... the moment that happens, I will tell him about the Horcrux, Ginny vowed. The very moment.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

May 26, 2000

Ginny stirred restlessly in bed. She'd gotten used to the training and schedule, and she no longer fell asleep the instant her head hit the pillow. It gave her time to think about the day, to prepare herself for tomorrow.

But tonight her thoughts kept straying to how long it had been since she'd had sex. Her sex drive had taken a long time to come back, but now it had, and Ginny was aching.

She flipped over onto her stomach, and could not help grinding into the mattress, stirring her up even more. "God," Ginny muttered. Reaching over, she switched on her lamp, grateful suddenly that they had private rooms. Still, she grabbed her wand and reinforced the wards. Ginny'd always lived in fear of getting caught at this by her family, and her excessive caution persisted to this day.

Ginny kicked off the covers. She was wearing her Weird Sisters t-shirt, and a pair of threadbare underwear that had seen better days. She pulled them down off her hips, and spread her legs. Her fingers tangled in her curls, tugging at it, brushing the hair against already sensitive skin. "Ahhhhh," said Ginny.

She stroked herself, playing, spreading the moisture around. Her thoughts strayed to Grumpy, and the lead up to him being inside her. She thought of the feverish kissing, the brief foreplay...

And it just... wasn't... right.

Ginny brushed her hand over her stomach, and cupped her breast, rubbing her thumb against her nipple until it budded.

She closed her eyes and pretended it was someone else's hand... not small and callused... larger. She thought of nothing but that hand, squeezing her breast, stroking her. Exploring her.

God, she'd only had sex twice, and she was craving it.

She spread her legs wider, and touched her clit, rubbed it back and forth. It was slippery, but she still wasn't...

With a small sound of frustration, Ginny closed her eyes and thought of Harry. There it is, thought Ginny. Her old standby. Her clit throbbed. She rubbed more moisture around, thinking of Harry doing this, thinking of Harry putting his fingers in her, then his penis, laying flat on top of her.

She ground her palm against herself. So good, it was so good when she thought of him on that hillside above the obstacle course, his robes open... Ginny tried to imagine what his penis would look like...

So good.

Ginny pumped her fingers in and out in time with Dream Harry's thrusts. They were in his office now, she was riding him on his chair... her fingers spasmed, and she jerked them over her clit, rubbing, rubbing...

She came with a grunt of satisfaction.

Ahhhhh, that was bloody fantastic.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

May 28, 2000

It had come on so slowly that Harry hardly realized what was happening until he was wanking in the shower every morning to thoughts of Ginny. It was like he was in sixth year again... things had changed, Harry'd thought he no longer had those feelings for Ginny, had thought too much time had passed, had thought he was in love with Nosy — a girl he hadn't seen for a year, and, horrible thought though it was, may be gone from his life forever.

His chest tightened, and he leaned his head against the shower door. It was always like this. He would spend nearly the entire afternoon with Ginny and the other trainees... he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was, how funny, how clever. He'd even get erections, watching her.

He looked down at his penis. The thing had a mind of its own, and it wanted Ginny, bad. And... Harry had to admit to himself, he did too.

It felt disloyal.

It felt disloyal, wrong, and so bloody hot.

Harry gritted his teeth, and stroked himself hard again.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

June 02, 2000

"You want me to… come to the pub with you," Ginny said slowly. Her brother looked a little uncomfortable.

"Yeah, we're going to the pub, and I – we – Hermione and I want to see you there," said Ron.

Ginny widened her eyes. "Isn't that fraternization? That's against the  _rules,_ Ron."

"I don't think it counts when it's your brother," Ron pointed out, narrowing his eyes at her. "You're coming with us. You haven't even left once the entire time you've been here. Don't be a smart arse."

"But I thought I was just another trainee—"

"Just during work. It's Saturday. We're all off."

He left her then to get ready, threatening to drag her out by her feet like he used to do when they were kids, if she didn't come out of her own accord. Despite her words, she was a little excited. Her fingers were shaking with it. She chose a simple dress and shawl, brushed her hair, put on the earrings Luna got her for her birthday a few years ago, and headed out the door at a run…

…only to almost run smack into Harry.

He caught her by the elbows. Sudden heat sprung up where his hands touched her, and Ginny's knees gave a little tremble. She  _thought_ she saw an answering look in his eyes… that look she'd seen in her fifth year, that had almost made her believe that he desired her. But then Ron's loud voice interrupted them.

"Sorry about that," Ginny murmured.

"We're meeting Hermione there, she's grabbing us a table," Ron said happily.

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked.

"My favorite pub," he said.

Harry groaned. "You just like it because you drink for free." He laughed.

"Apparate Ginny there, would you?" Ron did not wait for an answer, but disappeared with a small pop.

"Well," said Harry. "Shall we?"

He held out his arm. Ginny took it. There was that flash of heat again. She wrapped her hands around his bicep.  _It's funny,_ she thought.  _Time seems to move slower when I'm near him._  She ducked her head, so he couldn't see her sudden frown. Maybe she ought to lay off playing with herself while thinking about Harry. It was causing… complications when she was actually with him.

"We're here," said Harry.

Ginny blinked, shocked. She'd barely even been aware of the Side Along Apparition. "Where's here?" Ginny asked, but once she became fully aware of her surroundings she knew exactly where they were. Her jaw slowly dropped.

"Ginny?"

"I—I—"

Ron popped his head out the door to the Swishbaggle's pub. "Come in, I'm starving, and we want to order."

"Raised by werewolves, that one," Ginny muttered.

Harry laughed. "Hey, some of my best friends are werewolves."

She flashed a grin at him as they walked in. "How on earth did you find this place? Do you know Finny?"

"Finny-?"

But Harry was interrupted when a loud voice boomed, "GINNY!"

Mr. Swishbaggle came around the side of the bar, and shook her hand, beaming. "It's good to see you, lass! Are you back to stay? We still have your things in the basement… you can have your old room back."

Ron, Hermione, and Harry were all gaping at Ginny.

"Erm, I won't be staying… I didn't know we were coming here, actually! My brother forced me out with his girlfriend and his best mate… this is just a happy coincidence!" Ginny was babbling, but could not seem to stop herself. "Thanks for keeping my things…"

"Of course, of course, anything for you, you saved our girl," Mr. Swishbaggle was simply beaming as he looked from her to Ron. "And you're Ginny's brother!"

Ron was dumbfounded. "I—yes, I'm Ginny's brother…"

"I told you how my daughter was saved from Hogwarts, and it was Ginny who got her out of there! Saved her life; they were going to have her punished just for how she was born. But Ginny, she saved her."

Ginny blushed under the weight of the older three's gazes. She opened her mouth to say something, but Moody's curse slipped into her thoughts and held her tongue. She shrugged at them, while inwardly damning the curse…

"I lived here once I moved back to London," explained Ginny, once Mr. Swishbaggle let them go sit down. "I lived above the bar in a tiny little flat… it was hardly a flat, though, no kitchen."

"Why didn't you go to the Burrow?" Ron burst out, as though he couldn't help himself.

Ginny looked at him blankly.  _It isn't that easy_ , Ginny wanted to tell him. Instead, she let her gaze wander over to the window, in a silent gesture that she would not appreciate any further lines of questioning. She could feel Harry's gaze on her, and wanted desperately to tell them everything…

But it wasn't to be.

Hermione changed the subject to Magical Law, and Ron swiftly changed the subject to Quidditch. And so Ginny spent an evening with family, and friends, something she hadn't done in far too long.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The training room echoed with Ron's laugh (Harry noticed that Ron's new favorite part of helping train the new Aurors was making them suffer by sounding the alarm at three in the morning), and Harry couldn't help but smile back.

It was past three in the morning, and Harry had decided that his group of trainees ought to have a little wake up call. It was important to test their reflexes, to make sure that they didn't lag too much. He had specific worries about Emory, who often dragged himself in five to ten minutes late in the mornings with huge circles under his eyes. Harry could only imagine how long the alarm would have to go off in Emory's room before the poor bloke woke up.

"Who do you think will be last?" Ron asked, as though guessing his thoughts.

"Emory," Harry replied firmly, without even having to think about it.

This surprised Ron. "Not Ginny?" he asked.

"Ginny?" Harry stared at him, equally surprised.

"Ginny's always had a hard time getting out of bed in the mornings," Ron explained. "Mum used to go into fits about it, actually..." Ron's brow creased a little. He and Ron hadn't spoken specifically about Ginny, her return, and her career choice since Ron had exploded, but Harry knew his friend well enough that he was still stewing over it.

"Ginny's an excellent trainee," Harry told him honestly. "I don't think she's ever been late." In fact, Harry wouldn't be surprised if she was the first to show up. The last month had shown him that she had more drive and was more focused than the other trainees.

"Hm," Ron said noncommittally. He glanced down at his watch, staring at the moving stars and planets on the face of it for a moment, and then looked back up. "Are you ready?"

"One second," Harry said. He stretched, yawned, and reached down and touched his toes. It wouldn't do to show the trainees that it was just as late a night for him as it was for them. Moody had taught them that a true leader pushes himself harder than anyone else. Or at least pretended to. "All right."

Ron strode over to the side of the wall toward the bell, and tapped it once with his wand. A deep gong sounded once, twice, and finally a third time. The trainees, most of whom were probably sleeping in their beds, would hear it as though the gong was in their rooms, right next to their ear. One heartbeat passed, and then two. Harry had almost counted to five before a loud crack broke the quiet.

Ginny landed almost directly on top of him. Harry recognized her immediately by the sudden waft of wildflowers, he caught her elbows in his hands, steadying her. "I told you she'd be the first to arrive," Harry told Ron happily. Ginny muttered an apology and then stepped backward.

The shy, embarrassed note in her voice was enough for Harry to give her a second glance, despite the fact that two others had Apparated, and he was supposed to be paying attention...

Her hair was tousled, and one side of her face was flushed from resting against her pillow. Ron was laughing heartily - Harry had the feeling that someone had shown up in a state of undress - but for several seconds, Harry simply couldn't take his eyes off of Ginny. She wore a blue Weird Sisters t-shirt, and a pair of black knickers.  _Lacy black knickers._  Harry swallowed hard, feeling dizzy.

He tore his eyes away from her knickers, but his gaze almost immediately found her breasts.  _Stop looking, stop looking!_  he ordered himself. But she was  _cold_ , and her nipples were puckered, he could see them clearly through her thin shirt-

"Hey!" Ron suddenly barked. "Stop ogling my sister!"

Harry jerked his head to the side, forcing himself to look away, and try to pretend, to his best mate, that the sight of Ginny's knickers and nipples had not just caused every thought in Harry's head to fly away. The blood was pounding through his veins, and he was almost painfully erect.  _Thank Merlin for robes._  "I-" Harry began, not knowing quite what to say.

But to his relief, Ron was not glaring at Harry, ready to thump him for staring at Ginny, but had his arms folded across his chest. The focus of his ire was Mapother, who looked frightened by the intensity of Ron's protectiveness.

"Yes, sir," Mapother squeaked.

"That's right," Ron said.

"Auror Weasley," Ginny said, a dangerous note in her voice.

"What?" Ron asked, surly.

"I'm just another trainee, remember," she said through gritted teeth. Harry gave her another fleeting glance. Or he attempted to make it fleeting. His gaze lingered long enough so that he was disappointed that her arms were now covering her breasts.

_Damn._

"You aren't just another-"

"Yes. I am," Ginny said loudly. Harry was forcibly reminded of her first day here, and prayed silently that the situation would not escalate into a duel. "Aren't you the one who said you couldn't give me any special favors, and that I wasn't to come to you with complaints-"

"But-"

"And weren't you the one who said it'd just be best if, at work, you were just another Auror, and I'm just another trainee?" she talked right over her brother. Harry noted that Ron's ears were turning bright red. The other trainees were looking on with interest; some of them were stifling laughs. Harry probably would have been similarly amused had he not been so aroused that he actually looked down, to make sure his robes were hiding it.

"Why aren't you dressed, anyway?" Ron demanded, changing tack.

"I was  _sleeping_!" Ginny no longer sounded the slightest bit embarrassed, and Harry could not help but admire that she didn't let her brother cow her.

Harry tried to focus, but he kept having to glance over at her knickers, as though he was trying to memorize the way they looked. Or try to see through them.

"We're in the Orkney Islands, it's freezing," Ron pointed out. Harry could not help but think Ron was right. Why did she have to turn up here, looking like that? And now Harry couldn't concentrate on the task at hand... all he could think about were her nipples, and wanting to see them... not just their outline.

 _Focus, Harry,_  he ordered himself.

"And what do  _you_  wear to bed, Auror Mo _ron_?" Ginny asked scornfully. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, giving Harry another tantalizing glimpse of her breasts.

With huge effort, he looked away, and toward Ron, who appeared to be quite furious. "Stop," Harry said firmly, stepping between the two and facing Ron. "Ron, give her your robe. Ginny, you can't call Ron a moron-"

"Even when he's acting like one?" she muttered just loud enough for Harry to hear.

"But she-" Ron started.

"Just do it, Ron," Harry told him. "The sooner we finish here, the sooner you can get back to Hermione."

Ron blew out a breath and shrugged off his outer robes, tossing them to Harry, who turned and handed them to Ginny. The part of him that wanted nothing more than to look at her tried to mutiny, but the sane part of him won out.  _Later,_  Harry said. Though he didn't know quite what he was going to  _do_  later (although he had a shrewd idea wanking would be involved).

"Let's get started," Harry said.

Harry did his best to ignore the sudden confusion in his head. His body wasn't confused, no, not at all. He kept up a running chant in his mind:  _she's Ron's sister, she's out of bounds,_  went directly with  _there are rules against it!_  Granted, there wasn't anything that Robards could do about Harry's sudden, shocking attraction to one of his trainees - it was obvious that, like the fact he'd blown up his Aunt Marge in third year with accidental magic, Harry could likewise not control what his penis obviously wanted.

Badly.

Later, Harry couldn't remember which trainees did well and which did poorly in the exercises he had them do. The important test (their reaction times) had already passed, and drilling them on various hexes, curses, and methods to guard themselves against attack was just a reason to make dragging them out of bed at three in the morning worthwhile.

Not even an hour later, Harry dismissed them. Ron hung back with his troop, punishing the late-comers with a few last minute tests.

"Good night, Auror Potter," Ginny said, winking.

For some reason, hearing her call him that caused a swooping sensation in his belly that might have been nerves.

"Good night," Harry said, trying not to look at her. Expecting to hear the crack of her Disapparation, he waited in vain. Instead, the more mundane sound of a door opening and closing reached his ears.  _She's going to walk back?_  Harry thought in disbelief.  _It's four in the bloody morning!_

The other trainees were receiving final instructions from Ron before Apparating away.

Not that he was paying much more than cursory attention to them. He didn't precisely stare at the door, but he was highly aware that Ginny had just walked out of it.  _I'm just worried for her safety,_  Harry told himself. But with a sinking feeling, he realized he was more interested in the state of her nipples (most likely erect - the Orkney Islands were cold year round) than in whether or not she could make it back to her room without running into trouble. He was too aware that she could take care of herself to fool himself.

Without even thinking consciously about it, Harry gave his head a shake and strode after her. Once outside in the brisk air, he hurried. He didn't run - not quite - but he made sure that he was walking fast enough to overtake her. He wrapped his cloak tightly around himself, bending his head into the wind, and closing his eyes. Even with his glasses on, his eyes had started to tear up.

A sudden bang shocked him enough that he dropped to the ground. A red light streamed over his head -  _A Stunner,_ thought Harry - and he said loudly, "Ginny, it's me! Harry!"

"What are you doing out here?" she asked, surprised. He couldn't see her face as he picked himself up off the ground, brushing off his robes. The path from the training center to where the trainees lived was not well lit, and he could barely see her outline.

He didn't really have an answer for her, except that his heart was beating rather quickly, and it had nothing to do with the cold or the fact that she'd just attacked him. Inexplicably, his erection had returned, as though the stunning spell had been foreplay.

"If you came out here to protect me-" Ginny began exasperatedly.

"I didn't," Harry said. And quite suddenly, he'd gripped her wrist, and started pulling her off the path. "You can protect yourself, can't you?" he asked. Not waiting for an answer, he bent his head and found her mouth with his. He was expecting it to be pleasant; he had not expected that things would ignite almost immediately. As soon as their lips met, she rocked up hard into him, wrapping her arms around him.


	15. Crescendo

June 05, 2000

Ginny trembled in Harry's arms as he kissed her. He whirled her even further from the path, and Ginny pushed him up against a tree and crawled up him, needing to be as close to him as she could possibly be. His hand came to her bum and helped, pulling her up until he settled her against the hard ridge of his erection.

"God," Ginny gasped, tearing her lips away. "You know how to surprise a girl, Harry." She pressed closer, blatantly rubbing against him.

"Maybe you need to pay more attention to my lectures on constant vigilance." His voice was husky and distracted, and Ginny felt him squeeze her bum and knead it. She let her own hand wander away from his shoulder, and into his robes. Against the palm of her hand, he felt his heart beating madly.

Ginny pushed herself up and found his lips again, kissing him just as fierce as she could, with her hand pressed over his heart. It was glorious, this second kiss. Deeper, and somehow even more frantic than before. She kissed him for what felt like days; their hips moved against each other. One of Harry's hands on her bum, the other on her hair.

"Ow!" Harry choked out.

"Sorry!" Ginny dragged her lips from his.

"No, don't! It wasn't that bad."

But the moment had broken enough that Ginny realized she was cold... was freezing cold, and she was no longer trembling from desire, but shivering from the temperature. She rested her head against his chest, and said in a small voice, "I'm cold."

Harry shifted. "We... should probably get you inside." He said this with reluctance plain in his voice.

Ginny didn't want to leave the circle of his arms. It was brilliant, this. But her shivering threatened to turn into full body shudders and she pulled away with a sigh of regret.

They managed to find their way back to the path — they'd whirled further away from it than Ginny expected. Harry walked with her most of the way back to the barracks, but stopped once it came in sight. Ginny was surprised to find that even though it had been natural, necessary, even, to rub up against him — and, truth be told, it was only the cold that had stopped her from going any further — it was so awkward now.

Her heart thumped. What was he thinking? Had kissing her been an impulse he regretted?

"Good night, Ginny," Harry said quietly.

It was too dark to read his face, so Ginny turned and walked away. Maybe tomorrow he'd come find her... come kiss her again... tell her it wasn't a mistake he immediately regretted...

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry avoided Ginny for over a week, and hated himself a little for it. Ever since the kiss, which had been the single greatest kiss of his life, he'd existed in a state of confusion. Arousal and the fear of getting caught warred within him... as did elation and regret. The regret was the worst, and happened at the bleakest moments, when Harry felt like he was betraying Nosy... betraying the feelings that had sprung up between them when they'd been trapped in that closet for hours.

And then he'd see Ginny, remember the feel of her lips on his, and how wonderful that had been, and the regret would die a little.

Nosy drifted further and further away...

...and Harry let her. He paced his room, and let her go. He would no longer ask women what they would see in the Mirror of Erised... he wouldn't wonder if he saw her ducking through the crowd at the Ministry... he would try not to think of her. Because... because when he'd kissed Ginny, she'd kissed him back. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and it wasn't fair of him to kiss Ginny like that while pining from somewhere else. Somewhere around two that morning, he fell into a restless sleep.

It was another Saturday, and another scheduled day of meetings with the trainees to discuss their progress. Ginny was last, as always, they went in alphabetical order. But when she knocked at the door, Harry panicked. If he saw her here, alone, right now, he was incapable of being professional. He'd kiss her, he knew he would... he couldn't do that, not here. So when she knocked, he didn't say anything.

She waited, Harry knew. Waited for him for long minutes while he held his breath.

"Oi," Ron's voice came through the door. "What're you doing here?"

"Potter was supposed to have our meeting today."

Harry winced.

"Maybe... he forgot?" Ron asked. "He's coming round for dinner at my place, why don't you come with? You can yell at him there if you want."

"Uh, sure," said Ginny. "Thanks, Ron," she added sincerely. "I've got some stuff to put away... I'll meet you there? What's the address?"

The two Weasleys wandered out of earshot, and Harry shoved himself up from his desk. A chance to talk to Ginny off the compound? Harry needed that.

I just need to grab that Cloak, he thought.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

June 17, 2000

The moment Ginny appeared on her brother's front step, a hand clasped down on her shoulder. "It's me," said Harry. "I'm under my Cloak."

This was unnecessary to add, as the porch had looked quite empty. His hand slipped down her shoulder to take her hand, holding it through the light material of his father's invisibility cloak. He tugged at her, and Ginny went. She was a little irritated at him for snogging her senseless, then taking turns staring at her and ignoring her for over a week.

"I'm sorry, I've been a prat, haven't I?" Harry asked ruefully. Once they were around the side of the house, Harry pulled off his cloak.

Ginny didn't agree or disagree, she just tilted her head, and waved her hand in a "well, maybe" gesture. "I guess I don't understand why you... any of it."

"Any of what?"

Ginny shrugged. "I'm not going to do all the talking, Harry, that's not fair. First you kissed me, and then not a word — or another kiss! — until now, and—"

Harry kissed her. A quick, heated kiss that curled Ginny's toes. Then he leaned his forehead against hers. "Sorry for not kissing you again," he said. Ginny could read the sincerity in his tone. "I've been wanting to, but we could lose our jobs if we got caught at it."

"I know," Ginny nodded. "I thought that could be it, but it also could have been that you regretted doing it in the first place, or... you didn't like doing it."

"You felt how much I liked doing it."

Ginny flicked her eyes downward. "I did feel that. And I thought I was going to explode. If I hadn't been so damn cold..." she trailed away. Referring obliquely to Harry's erections was one thing, telling him straight that she'd wanted it in her was another.

"I know," said Harry. "I know, but Ginny — we have to be so careful. I was worried people would see it when I looked at you."

"I still need an instructor, you know," Ginny pointed out. "We were supposed to have a meeting to go over my work."

"I know, it wasn't fair of me. I won't do that again."

"And," she said thoughtfully, "I don't know if that's the only thing holding you back." She worried a part of him was still angry at her leaving, like the rest of the family was. Or if he didn't respect her for leaving, or for not being there... and Ginny couldn't set his mind at ease...

Harry looked at her closely. "There was something else," he said, emphasizing the past tense. "There was someone last year..." he looked clearly uncomfortable even mentioning it.

Ginny couldn't help but laugh. "Is that it? I was worried that you were on my brother's side, that a part of you thinks I'm scum—"

Harry kissed her. "I don't think you're scum, I think you're wonderful."

So Harry'd been with someone. Ginny felt a little pang, but dismissed it. "I had someone, too," she admitted. "It's over, and has been for a while." Ginny'd never really thought she'd see Grumpy again. How could she? She had no idea what he looked like. She had a beautiful memory of falling in love in a single night, and that was enough for Ginny.

Harry swallowed. "Mine is over, too."

Ginny wondered if Harry's person had died, if that was why he'd been so torn up. She didn't really want to ask, she didn't want to know. So instead, she leaned forward and kissed him.

He lifted her up and kissed her back with such enthusiasm that Ginny's head spun. She gripped his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist. This time, she was the one pressed against a hard surface, pinned there in the most delicious way. Harry reached between them and adjusted something, and suddenly there was that hard ridge again, the one Ginny desperately wanted to—

"OI!" Ron's loud, stupid voice interrupted them. "WHAT'RE YOU DOING SNOGGING MY SISTER IN MY SIDE YARD?!"

"Because I can't snog her at the ATA," Harry pointed out, while Ginny growled — literally growled — at her brother.

Ron pointed his finger at them. "There's a good reason for that, you nutters, you'll get fired."

"It's all in the handbook," Hermione chimed in, peeking around Ron. Ginny was surprised to see a smile on her face.

Harry snorted, but did not appear to have an argument at the ready.

"Oh come on," scoffed Ginny. "Since when do you follow rules? And how long have you known Harry? Surely you knew there'd be at least one major rule he had to break!"

"Hey!" Harry protested.

"Rule-breaker," Ginny grinned.

A smile tugged at his lips. "I don't go around thinking how I can break the rules," he told her. "It just sort of... happens."

"A lot," Hermione put in.

Ron glanced around uneasily. "Let's talk about this inside."

"At least we're not at my cottage, with Tonks and Lupin living across the street," Harry said. He grabbed his Cloak up off the ground, and grabbed Ginny's hand. Ron led them around the corner to the backyard.

"This is beautiful!" Ginny admired. Hermione and Ron had a fairy grotto (with real fairies! Ginny saw with delight). They'd strung up lights the crisscrossed over a meandering path. Ginny was stunned — it was an adult's house, and not something she expected her brother to have.

"It came like this," Hermione admitted. "Your mum helped with a few spells to maintain it..."

"How is Mum?" Ginny asked.

Hermione and Ron glanced at her. "Don't try to change the subject," Ron told her, but then he relented. "They're fine... they're dithering about how to invite you over... Mum's worried you're going to be in danger being an Auror."

Hermione snorted. "I don't think Ginny's in danger, unless Harry's got something in his pants he never told us about."

Ginny blushed as Ron laughed.

The other couple led the way inside. Here, it looked much more like the home of two very different people trying to live together. Books were stacked on a violently orange tablecloth. Nothing hung on the walls. Dishes were being magically washed in the sink, and a couple hampers from the Leaky Cauldron announced what was for dinner. "This is more like it," Ginny said, satisfied. "The garden looks like actual grown-ups live here, this is more like Ron."

"Oi!" Ron protested. "You better be nicer to me, you need me on your side."

"When are you ever not on my side?" Harry asked. "Her side is my side. My side is the right side. You know this, Ron."

"Fine," Ron muttered.

"So when and how did this happen?" Hermione asked, while she got out plates and silverware. The Leaky Cauldron hampers were opened and emptied (the moment they were empty, they disappeared with a pop).

"Well... we've been friends... and it sort of... happened after a middle-of-the-night drill," Ginny told her.

"She showed up in a t-shirt and underwear, she broke Harry!"

"Hey! I'm not broken!"

"I told you, it was the middle of the night!"

"So what are your intentions toward my sister?" Ron asked around a mouthful of food.

"Ron!" Ginny said, aghast. Her face flushed horribly.

"We haven't even had a chance to talk about any of this together," Harry said firmly. "We're not going to have this conversation in front of you."

"You grope my sister up against the wall of my house in front of me, but you can't tell me if you're just jerking her around or not?"

"I didn't know you were there—"

"Oh Ron, stop," Hermione ordered. "He started falling for Ginny in sixth year—"

"Hermione."

Harry sounded genuinely angry. And served them right, sticking their noses in when they'd just said they hadn't had a chance to hammer this all out yet. Still, that didn't keep Ginny from wishing he'd let Hermione elucidate a little more. So he'd really had feelings for her? Did he now, or was it just about snogging? She looked at him.

"You two need to lay off," Ginny said quietly, sincerely.

With what had to be superhuman effort, Ron shut his big fat mouth. All was silent as they ate. Ginny was very aware of Harry sitting next to her... his leg kept brushing against hers, until finally he just left it there. Ginny could no longer concentrate on eating. Instead, she laid down her plate and leaned against Harry.

Ron was the last to finish, of course; it takes time to eat as much as a small killer whale. He looked at Hermione, then Harry. Finally, he grimaced a little at Ginny.

"Well," he said. "I feel like having a bit of a walk." He held out his hand. "Hermione?"

"That's... unusually... tactful," said Hermione, surprised.

"I need him to figure his shit out before I hex him for jerking around my sister," Ron muttered. "And you two better not defile my house. You need to talk? Talk."

Harry and Ginny watched him go, meekly.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

As soon as the door shut, Harry pulled Ginny into his lap. He brushed her long hair aside, and pressed a kiss to her neck, breathing in her clean, flowery scent.

"So... sixth year?" Ginny asked. The look she gave him was direct.

Harry smiled at her. "Yeah, I... guess it might not have been much of a secret if Hermione figured it out. It was before everything went dark... they were so bright, those days, I didn't even know. And you were in the center of it. But you were dating Dean, and I—"

"I should've chucked him," Ginny said easily.

Harry laughed. "I wish you had!"

Ginny took his hand in hers, and twined their fingers together. "So it's not just that we're randy, and together all the time?" There was an undercurrent of vulnerability in her tone that made Harry's heart give an extra thump.

"No," said Harry. "I have... feelings. I'm not going to say they were there the entire time, but they were there before, and they are again—stronger, even."

"Same," said Ginny. "I've had a crush on you in some form since I was about ten." She grinned at him.

He grinned at her.

Then she kissed him. Harry tightened his arms around her and kissed her back. His hand moved in her beautiful hair. His other hand had a mind of its own; it kneaded the small of her back, squeezed her bum, and wandered up her sides. Before Harry knew it, he had her breast cupped in his hand.

"Mm," moaned Ginny against his mouth.

That sound galvanized Harry into action. He had her flat on her back, her robes open, in a second. He settled next to her, adjusted his erection so it rested against her thigh, and slid his hand up her shirt. He looked her in the eye, silently asking permission. In reply, Ginny lifted her shirt, squirmed around, and unclasped her bra. Harry's eyes feasted on her breasts. They're perfect, he thought dimly. They were pale and perfectly sized, tipped with nipples that looked like rosebuds. He was so hard it was actually painful.

Harry ignored that, and played with her breasts, tracing them with his fingers, and watching them quiver when he lightly pinched her nipples.

"Yes or no?" Ginny murmured.

"Yes," Harry said without hesitation.

She moved. She tugged at his waist, and his pants were open, and oh god, she was touching him. Her cool fingers wrapped around him. "Oh God," Harry strangled out. She wasn't touching him with any sort of rhythm, was just playing, but to the greatest embarrassment of Harry's life, he came in less than a minute.

Ginny laughed wickedly.

Harry hid his face in her breasts. The orgasm had robbed him of strength. "Sorry," he mumbled.

She stroked his hair. "Don't be, I loved it." Harry could read the sincerity in her tone, and his heart thumped again.

Despite his embarrassment, Harry was slightly grateful he'd come so suddenly. Once the fog of arousal had cleared, he realized it had been quite risky of them to play on Ron's couch, when Ron and Hermione could walk back in at any moment. Reluctantly, he helped Ginny put her breasts away, and redid her robes. All the while trying to figure out how to come up with the necessary privacy for them to do this again. His cottage was out, Remus and Tonks lived much to close... Grimmauld Place? A possibility, but Order members still came in without warning, and Harry wasn't sure if all the wards Moody'd left on it were gone — too risky.

He grabbed his wand, and cleaned up the mess he'd made, and a sudden thought made him jolt. He looked at Ginny in horror. "I'm sorry! I didn't make you come!"

"I wouldn't have been able to," Ginny said, flushing. She gestured below her waist. "I usually need a little time, and I'd be too worried Ron's going to walk in any second."

In fact, it was only thirty seconds after Harry and Ginny settled back in the couch that Ron came stumping back in, trailed by Hermione. Bloody good timing, Harry thought. Their luck followed them through the rest of the evening. Ron seemed mollified when they both admitted they weren't just in it for an easy snog, but they actually had feelings for each other.

"Don't get caught," Ron warned them. "I won't be able to cover for you."

"We won't," chorused Harry and Ginny.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

June 29, 2000

Ron had to admit that Harry was getting increasingly inventive with excuses to get time alone with Ginny. And he hadn't even done anything particularly suspicious as of yet. He'd thrown himself into the role of instructor, and had taken to doing aerial exercises with each individual student. The results were excellent, so even though Ron knew Harry and Ginny were landing somewhere and snogging each other senseless, Ron had taken to flying with his own trainees.

He'd just landed when he saw Tonks exiting the office building. His stomach sank. Unable to help himself, Ron looked back. No trace of Harry and Ginny, of course. Their flights lasted quite a bit longer than the others. He glanced back at Tonks. She hadn't seen him yet, maybe he could sneak away...

"Ron Weasley!" Tonks called, as he was trying to do just that.

Ron forced his grimace into a smile. "Tonks! Here to check up on us?" He sounded guilty, damn it.

"No, not really, just wanted to see for myself... I hear you and Harry are doing fantastic."

Ron shrugged. "We have a good group."

Tonks looked around. "Where's Harry?"

"Oh they're still out flying," Ron said. He swallowed when he realized what he'd said.

"They?" Tonks asked curiously. "Isn't it past time for the trainees to be done for the day?"

"Oh..." said Ron. He kicked his brain into gear. "Ginny's always last because of her last name. Then I think they — I — they're helping me surprise Hermione with a, uh, dinner party next week..."

He kicked himself. Of all the things! It's popped into his head because Hermione was planning a dinner party for her parents... Damn it, Ron, he swore at himself.

"Oh, is it for her birthday? When is it?" Tonks asked eagerly.

"September," Ron said.

"Her birthday's in September, but you're having a party next week?" Tonks asked, confused.

"Yeah... we like to... get the drop on her," Ron said lamely. "And, uh, Charlie's going back to Romania soon, and you know how close he and Hermione are..."

There was a long moment when Ron was not sure that Tonks was going to buy what he was trying to sell. Then, suddenly, she clapped her hands, "You know, a dinner party sounds like just the thing! Can Remus and I bring anything? We'll leave Teddy with Mum, of course. What time is it?"

Ron's throat worked. "Uh... why not bring... how about mead? Nothing fancy..."

"What day is it?"

"Next Friday," Ron said promptly.

Tonks tried to pry small talk out of him for the next few minutes, but finally gave up with a cheery wave, and a promise to see him next Friday. "What a fantastic idea, Ron! Remus and I have needed a break!"

"Remus and I have needed a break," Ron mocked under his breath. "Good going, Ron!"

"What'd you do this time?"

Ron whirled on his sister. "Tonks was just here," he hissed. Ginny's step faltered. Good. She'd been off groping Harry, or doing whatever those two did, while Ron had been forced to invent a dinner party, and invite Tonks to it.

"And don't even think you can get out of it," Ron warned. "You two need to be there next Friday, AND we have to invite Charlie and everyone."

"Next Friday?" Harry cried, dismayed. "Why'd you have to have it next Friday?"

Ron's mouth fell open. "It was the day that popped into my head!"

They were nutters, both of them, but they agreed to help. There was some confusion as to whether the three of them should tell Hermione, or if they should leave it as a surprise. They decided as one that if anyone knew anything about dinner parties, and could get them out of this mess, it was Hermione.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

29 June 2000 – 07 July 2000

Ginny was growing frustrated by the lack of intimate time she was able to spend with Harry. They were able to fly together, and sneak off for a very fast snog, and they had gotten quite good at getting each other to come. Harry would press against her, moving his hard ridge against her clit, and Ginny would wriggle and sigh and have a shallow little orgasm. But she wanted more.

She groaned. "I need more," she said, throwing herself on the ground.

"More?" Harry said hesitantly, a hopeful look on his face.

"Yes, more," Ginny looked at him.

"How… much more?"

She considered her words carefully. What she wanted to say was that she wanted to see his penis, damn it. She wanted to feel it inside her, she wanted to feel him come in her. "Everything," she finally admitted. "I want everything."

"We've got to figure out how… maybe after Hermione's fake birthday party we could… I dunno… maybe – maybe we could go to a Muggle place!" Harry's face lit up. "Brilliant!" He gave her a look that made her shiver. "Or we could go tonight!"

"Tonight's out," Ginny grimaced. "The next few days wouldn't work if we really want to do  _everything_."

He looked confused, then comprehension dawned. "Ah," he said. "I didn't – hurt anything down there, did I?"

Ginny chuckled. "No, it doesn't hurt. It felt good… except it's too bloody cold… I can't believe this is what passes for summer here."

"What was summer like in South America?" Harry asked.

"Summer? I wasn't there over summer," said Ginny.

"But your mum said you were there over Christmas, that she got a postcard from you," Harry said.

"Yes… over Christmas…" said Ginny. Her heart thumped a little faster.

"But it's summer over Christmas down there," Harry looked perplexed.

Ginny didn't say anything.  _Call me on it, call me on it, call me on it,_ she chanted inwardly. But Harry heaved a little sigh, drew her hand, and changed the subject.

The next time they had an intimate moment, it was extremely risky. Ginny'd had a meeting with him – a perfectly professional, instructive meeting – and then when they were done, she wandered over to have a very different sort of meeting. The kind that ended with her knickers down around her knees, and Harry's thumb on her clit.

He did it the way he did everything else: extremely well. Perhaps it was the sheer longing she felt for him, but she'd already been damp by the time he pulled down her knickers, and the look in his eyes as he stared at her… she was rocking against his hand. She leaned her head back and squeezed her eyes closed, concentrating on the pressure building. By the time she came, clenching her thighs around his hand, she was biting down on her lip to keep herself from crying out. It was almost… almost what she wanted, but God.

"I can't wait for Friday," Ginny murmured.

"God, me too," Harry said fervently. He got up, and kissed her, slowly, tangling his hand in her hair. He ended the kiss, and leaned his forehead against her. "You're so beautiful, Gin," he said.

The words  _I love you_  sprang to her lips.  _Too soon, Ginny,_ she told herself inwardly. Instead, she said, "I can't wait for Friday. All we have to do is get through Hermione's fake birthday party…"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

07 July 2000

 _It_ is  _a little tense_ , Harry was forced to admit to himself. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley stood in front of the fireplace, making awkward conversation. Ginny had that closed look on her face, and every once in a while, she grimaced. Bill and Ron muttered to each other in the corner, Ron poking his chest every time he glared at Ginny. Charlie and Mr. Weasley were going overboard in pretending enthusiasm. All in all, it was not one of the best fake birthday parties Harry had ever been to. It bothered him; the Weasleys needed to get over it… Harry himself even wondered if Ginny'd been where she said she'd been… he vowed to ask her as soon as possible, but he didn't want to see that blank look on her face when he brushed up against a topic she didn't want to discuss… he'd rather see her smile.

As though reading his thoughts, Ginny looked at him, rolled her eyes a little, and smiled.

It made Harry's chest hurt.

"You are so transparent," said Hermione, leaning against the wall next to him, nudging him with her elbow. Her mouth was lifted in a slight smirk. "How is it possible that you've managed to keep things a secret?"

Harry shrugged. Just a month ago, the secret relationship had filled him with anxiety, and had dreaded being found out. But he hadn't been able to stop himself from wanting to be with her, from seeking her out in the shadowy corners of the Auror compound: outside, or in the stairwells, or even in Ron and Hermione's flat. Getting caught would mean the loss of his career.

Now it didn't seem to matter.

 _That's not entirely true,_  Harry thought, feeling slightly guilty, and watching Ginny's slender hand flutter as she talked. If he got booted as an Auror, he'd feel awful. It wouldn't help that  _The Daily Prophet_  and  _Witch Weekly_  would run with the story. It wouldn't die for a long time...  _Harry Potter Fondles Fond Recruits_...

"What's so funny?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing," Harry shook his head. "It isn't important. And I don't think it's a problem – I'm more careful at the compound, you know that." An image of Ginny, sitting on the desk in front of him while he lifted her skirt and played flitted through his mind. "Well, I'm more careful in front of others," he amended.

Hermione's brown eyes were very serious, and Harry had the unsettling feeling that she was able to see his thoughts. "I suppose I don't need to tell you again what could happen," she said.

"Nope," said Harry. "I'm not stupid, Hermione, I know what happens to couples who fraternize during the training program. And I know it would be a hundred times worse for me." As he watched, Ginny took a sip of tea and cradled the cup in both her hands. He loved her hands. "She's worth it," he added.

Hermione looked impressed at that. "You really love her, don't you," she said, amazed. "What about Closet Girl? You looked for her for a year, embarrassing yourself in front of legions of witches—"

"Hey!" Harry said indignantly. "I didn't embarrass myself—"

"You're lucky that  _Witch Weekly_  never found out that you interrogated the witches you went out with," Hermione said, grinning. Harry thought that perhaps she spent far too much time with the Weasleys. "'Do you know what the Mirror of Erised is?'" she parroted. "'What would you see in it?'"

Harry couldn't help but laugh, and warmed even further when Ginny turned toward him and flashed him a private smile.  _Two hours,_  she mouthed, winking. Two hours until they'd Apparate out of here, and until they actually made love for the first time.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," Hermione said, both peeved and amused. "Neither one of you are being at all discreet—"

"We're at your house, why do we need to be discreet?" asked Harry, although he did feel a little tendril of guilt curl in his belly. They had both decided – together – that the Weasleys did not need to know about their relationship until Ginny completed the training program. It would be an added stress to them, they both had felt. An added worry. So they'd promised that they'd keep their affection for each other hidden.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Maybe because Tonks -  _your boss_  - is set to arrive at any moment. And if you think she won't notice the way you look at Ginny, you're dead wrong."

That  _did_  put a damper on things, Harry had to admit.

"You're right," he muttered. "She's just… beautiful," he said without thinking. "She's my favorite. Favorite everything. It's hard not to look at her."

With effort, he pulled his eyes away from Ginny, and focused completely on Hermione. Instead of watching him carefully, however, she was now staring at Ron, who was talking to Bill across the room. Her eyes were unfocused, and a dreamy little smile played across her lips.

Harry nudged her, lifting his eyebrows.

"It's perfectly all right for me," Hermione said waspishly. "It isn't illegal for  _us_  to be together."

"Ron's like my brother, and you're like my sister," Harry said. "There's just something incestuous about you two being together."

Her mouth dropped open. Harry felt quite pleased with himself. It wasn't often that he made Hermione speechless. "It is  _not_ incestuous," she said hotly.

"What're you two fighting about?" Ron asked, coming up behind Hermione and slipping his arm around her shoulders.

"Nothing," Harry and Hermione said together.

"How's Bill?" Hermione asked in a low voice. The eldest Weasley brother now sat on the couch, holding his small daughter while Fleur spoke to Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. Every once in a while, he glanced up to glare at his little sister.

Ron shrugged. "He's not going to curse her or anything," he said fairly.

"I just think it's weird," said Harry, distracted by thoughts of Ginny. He'd already pulled them aside this evening, mentioning that Ginny's knowledge of basic South American geography was greatly lacking for someone who had allegedly spent half a year there. "What if she—"

Harry did not even get the words out. "No," Ron said firmly. "I'm not going down this road. Don't get me wrong, it's great that Ginny's back, but she was gone because she was hacked off at us. All you have is a  _feeling_  that something else is going on."

A flare of anger went through him. Just a  _feeling_ , was it? How many times had Harry saved Ron's life because of a feeling? But just as quickly as the anger came, it was banked. Harry wasn't sixteen anymore; he could be patient. Ginny would tell him eventually if something had happened her last year in school. If someone had hurt her, if she'd had to leave for more than just because she was angry with her family... Harry would find out eventually.

"All right," Harry said finally.

"You're giving up?" Ron asked, surprised.

"No way," Harry stared at him blankly. "I'm just going to enjoy shoving proof under your nose, that's all, we'll see what you think of my  _feelings_  then..."

Ron gave a shout of laughter, and even Hermione joined in. Harry chanced a glance at Ginny; she was watching him, and their eyes held.

"It's so bizarre to celebrate my birthday before yours… I feel like I should have a present for you," said Hermione, obviously trying to change the subject, despite the fact that neither Ron nor Harry had become openly hostile. Harry heard her voice as though it came from a distance greater than a foot.

"What  _do_  you want for your birthday, mate?" Ron asked. In a lower voice, he added, "If you say you want my little sister, I _will_  hurt you. There are some things I just don't need to hear about."

Ginny was listening, obviously aware that they were talking about her. Her brow furrowed with frustration when she couldn't quite hear the rest of what Ron said. And as Harry looked at her, he couldn't think of one single thing that he wanted or needed. Two months ago, his answer would have been different: he would've wanted to find Nosy, or have a vacation from work...

But now? Silly as it may be, Harry thought he might have everything he wanted. "Socks," he said, because he couldn't articulate this to Ginny's older brother. "I have everything else... just get me socks."

"You are so weird," said Ron.

Harry grimaced at him. "What's wrong with wanting socks?" he asked.

The sound of breaking china was his first warning.

"Ginny, what?" Mrs. Weasley said.

"Socks," Ginny whispered, hand coming up to cover her mouth. Broken shards of glass lay at her feet, and tea made a puddle on the floor. She did not appear to notice.

And then she barreled into him. Harry's head crashed into the wall, and there was one, dizzy moment of pain before Ginny grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and pulled his head down for a kiss. Too shocked to do anything for a moment, Harry's mind raced: her family was here and she said she'd wanted to wait until they told them—

But then her tongue worked its way into his mouth, and all thoughts flew out of his ears. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her off her feet and merely enjoyed the kiss. Something important niggled in the back of his memory, but the feel of Ginny in his arms was too strong for rational thought.

After several long moments of bliss, they pulled apart. But they were still close enough that Harry could see the tears. Her eyes were luminous with them. A breathless minute passed. Harry ignored the clamoring of the others and watched her carefully.

At first, her face had been alight with hope, but that faded to frustration. A flush spread across her cheeks, and she made a sound like a growl. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged until—

"You are so  _thick_!" she shouted at him.

"Ginny—" Hermione began.

"QUIET!" Ginny practically screamed. A sharp finger poked into his chest.

"What the hell?" Harry asked, mind churning. First she'd kissed him, and now she was shouting at him? He looked around for help, but everyone else seemed just as confused as he was.

"Come. With. Me," she bit out, tugging at his arm.

Harry glanced around at the other Weasleys; all of them were staring at them with varying degrees of shock. Bill had stood up, face tightly clenched.

"When did this happen?" he asked angrily.

"It—" Harry began, but had absolutely no idea where to go from there.

"Just shut the  _hell_  up, Bill," Ginny said hotly, fingers biting into Harry's arm. She pulled him away with more strength than he would have figured. It wasn't as though he didn't go willingly but he wondered if he would've had a choice.

The Weasleys were muttering, and following them, but Harry was so tightly focused on the top of her red head that he barely noticed. He thought he might still be dizzy from her kisses, but her actions simply didn't make sense. Desire and love had poured from her moments ago, catching him up with it, and now she was  _furious._

"Keep an eye out for Tonks, won't you, Hermione?" Ron said.

"You do it," answered Hermione.

Ginny kept making inarticulate sounds of rage as she stomped toward a small door in the little used entryway. Harry didn't think he'd ever actually noticed this before. Opening it, she turned back to him, and jabbed toward the dark space. Deciding that it was best not to provoke her, Harry meekly obeyed. She slammed the door shut behind him as hard as she could, and they were cast into utter darkness.

"Ginny, what's going on?" he asked.

"I need your wand," she said.

Harry stared at her, aghast and actually wondering if she'd gone a bit insane. "My - your family's right out  _there_ , I can't do this here—"

" _YOUR MAGIC WAND!_ " she cut him off, shouting again.

"Right," he whispered, humiliated, and now excruciatingly aware that people were listening and he'd just…  _Moron,_  he told himself scathingly. He pulled his wand out, and passed it to her. Her fingers were shaking violently.

" _Muffliato_ ," she whispered. And then, for good measure, she cast a charm that made all the noise that the Weasleys and Hermione were making cut off immediately. A pause. "Harry, I…"

Silence.

The only sound was a shaky intake of breath, as though she was crying. His belly clenched, and little tingles went up and down his spine; it was as though his body knew something that his mind did not and was reacting to something he had not yet realized.

Ginny didn't give him time to figure it out, but launched herself at him in the dark, wrapping her entire body around him.

It was a deliberate seduction. Her hands were everywhere, and suddenly Harry couldn't think. His unease and confusion faded away, overwhelmed by the feel of her, the scent of her. Her kisses were desperate this time, covering his face before reaching his lips; her hands were gentle, though, stroking his back, and then moving between their bodies to find his growing erection.

"Ginny, tell me what's wrong," he pulled away, pleading with her. Her kisses tasted salty, and he knew she was crying.

Instead, she pulled off her shirt and tugged her bra up, bringing his hand to her chest. Her nipples were puckered with desire, hard little points beneath his palm.

Harry stopped fighting at all and went with it, knowing this was important to her, but not knowing  _why_ ; he gave back as good as he got. His hands slid up her thighs, cupping her bum, and he wondered if he'd ever have sex in any place other than a closet—

_Oh._

"Oh," Harry said dazedly, pulling back. Shock swamped him, cooling his ardor immediately. His hand found his wand, and light erupted around them. Tears were sliding down her face. "My God," he breathed. " _Nosy._ "


	16. Grumpy At Last

Ginny's head spun. Tears were still dripping down her face and she was wholly unable to control it. Harry was  _Grumpy_. It all made so much sense that Ginny cursed herself for being a complete moron for an entire  _year_. Of course Harry was Grumpy! It made perfect sense. Who else would he have been? And to think, that in her darkest moments, she'd been terrified that he'd been one of her brothers…

"Nosy," he muttered. His breath puffed against her ear, and she realized that Harry was holding her so tightly that it was a bit of a struggle to breath. But who needed oxygen at a moment like this? Seriously. Breathing was highly over-rated. "I looked for you," he said. "Looked and looked and looked, and none of those stupid girls knew what the Mirror of Erised even  _was_ , let alone—"

Ginny kissed him.

She drank him in, everything about him; it was more than a kiss. Far more. His long, lean body was pressed fully against her. One of his hands cradled her head, and the other played with her hair. A desperate, poignant feeling welled up inside her; her toes curled.  _So much time._  She sighed against his mouth. Moody's curse was still at full strength. She could  _feel_  it blocking her words. But there were things it couldn't do; it could not keep her from kissing Harry as she had kissed him when he'd been Grumpy and she'd been Nosy.

Relief swelled and the desperation fled. Harry knew, and he would—

BANG!

The closet door burst open as Ginny's shoddy charm was broken. Harry did not seem to notice; instead, he kissed her as though he couldn't stop. Maybe he couldn't. He also didn't appear to notice that the loud sounds of her family were once more audible.  _Ah well,_  thought Ginny.  _I'm game if he is._

"Tonks, you don't want to see this, just go… somewhere else," Ron said. There was a scuffle at the door, and the light that was filtered in was blocked. The small part of Ginny that wasn't completely focused on Harry (and considering the fact that she was about to be tossed out of the Auror program, and Harry was about to be fired, that was a remarkably small part of her) appreciated her big brother at the moment. For surely it was he who was shielding them from view. Surreptitiously, she straightened her clothes.

"Why don't I want to see it?" Tonks asked. She sounded only mildly interested. "Is Harry being a naughty boy and kissing Ginny?" Her husband growled out a laugh.

"Harry and Ginny are together?" Her mother asked delightedly. "Really together?"

"I think that was what the kissing in the living room was all about, Molly, my love," her father said.

 _Of all the nosy, loud,_ wonderful _families…_

"Yeah, well, why the  _hell_  would he be with  _her_?"

Bill's angry voice shattered the cozy feeling that had wrapped around Ginny much like Harry's arms. A horrible flush made her skin crawl. It was obvious what he meant: there was no mistaking the fact that he thought she wasn't good enough to lick the hem of Harry's robes. She pulled away from Harry and handed him back his wand. It took only a second before a chill began to radiate from Harry.

"Bill!" her mother said in a shocked voice.

"Don't  _Bill_  me," he said in a tight, angry voice. "She turned her back on us like a selfish child. And now she's going to ruin Harry's career—"

"What?" Tonks interjected. "Like I'm going to tattle?"

Bill continued as if she hadn't spoken. "And all because she couldn't wait. I'd like to know what happened to the Ginny we had a few years ago—"

Harry exploded out of the closet, shoving Ron into a small table and sending a vase crashing to the floor. Ginny followed only to see him shoving Bill up against the opposite wall, one hand pressed hard against Bill's chest and his wand jabbing into his throat. "Don't you  _dare_  talk about Ginny that way," he snarled. Anger and defiance tightened his shoulders.

"Harry, she—"

"Just shut the hell up," he advised. "Listen to me  _very_  carefully, Bill. I don't care what your feelings are. I don't care if you're a complete  _fool_  and you're so blind that you can't see how courageous and – and wonderful your sister is. You are  _going_  to set that aside. And you're going to break Moody's charm off of her. Right. Now." He said these last words through clenched teeth. But Ginny could barely hear him through the clamor that resulted.

"Moody's charm!" her father exclaimed. "What?"

"Ginny?" Her mother's hand came around her elbow in a tight grip. "Why – what – Moody put that vile charm on you? But – but – but—"

But Ginny could only stare at her blankly. The black wall that prevented her from giving up her secrets was still very much there. Harry had found his way around it, but that didn't mean she could talk about it.

Ginny looked at Bill. Her lips were pressed firmly together.  _Please, Bill, please. Please, please._  "I know you hate me," she said.

Harry didn't let her continue. He shoved Bill up against the wall again, so hard that she could hear the thud Bill's head made against the wood. "He'd better not hate you," Harry said in a low, dangerous voice.

"Of course I'll take the charm off Ginny," Bill said. Ginny could read the confusion and doubt in his eyes. And even with the heavy scars on his face, his face was easy to read. He didn't believe. "If there is a charm," he added, echoing her thoughts.

 _Oh, there's a charm,_  Ginny thought grimly.

"Believe me, it  _is_  there," Harry said.

Ron let out a gasp. "Closet Girl!" Hermione, next to him, let out an incredulous laugh. Ginny glanced at her, and was shocked to see that she was beaming.

"Shut up, Ron!" Harry said loudly. He finally let Bill go, and took Ginny's hand. He pulled her forward and back into the living room. Ginny could see pieces of the teacup she'd shattered on the floor.  _Socks,_ she thought, bemused. The most important moment of her entire life, to date, was directly related to a simple conversation about socks.

They sat on the sofa as the others stampeded in; shock and incredulity were almost physical presences in the room with them. Even Tonks, who normally never shut up, was silent. Hermione, unlike the rest of them, was still grinning. Ginny winked at her.

"This makes perfect sense," she announced. Then her brows knit together. "But why were you gone so long?" she asked. "Where were you really? It was months and…" she suddenly grew very still, and Ginny could see the look that passed between Harry and Hermione. His entire body jerked and he turned to stare at her.

Licking his lips, he said, "Ginny. Did you – did we…?" his voice broke, and the depth of pain in his eyes tore at her. She could see him counting back the months, and knew that he suspected they'd made a child together. An unexpected pang went through her. A pregnancy would have been a lot simpler. And what if she'd produced a baby that looked like Harry? That would have led to questions and those questions would have led to exactly what would happen now. Someone finally,  _finally_  breaking Moody's charm off of her.

She put a finger to Harry's lips.

For a brief moment he rested his forehead against hers. "Are you ready?" he asked. In reply, Ginny cast a helpless glance at Tonks. She wanted to ask if it would hurt, or if something would happen. Needless to say, once she'd recovered enough to read, she'd followed the details of the breaking of Moody's curse avidly. But the members of the Order of the Phoenix who had gone through the process had kept the more relevant facts private.

"It hurts, Ginny," Tonks seemed to read her mind. "But not too badly, and not for very long. But you'll be very disoriented at first. At least I was."

"That's if she even was charmed," Bill muttered.

 _Cursed is more like it,_  Ginny thought privately.

"Don't start that again, Bill," Harry said. "Get on with it."

"I need just a few moments, you know it's a difficult spell, but I'm not sure you appreciate how… calm I need to be. I can't do it just yet," Bill admitted. "And I think… I think I'd rather you were wrong."

"Why?" Harry said ruthlessly. "Because then instead of blaming Ginny, we'd have to blame ourselves? I don't know about the rest of you, but I feel like a big, buggering idiot. And it's just going to get worse, you know."

Ginny squeezed his hand.

Her mother, who'd been quiet for far too long, finally spoke. "Bill, if you don't get on with gathering yourself, I'm going to hex you myself."

"I'll help," her dad offered.

"Fine," Bill muttered. He took a series of deep, even breaths. Less than a minute had passed when he finally stepped closer to Ginny. He laid his hand on her head, and pressed the tip of his wand against her left temple. He moved it slowly around her head. All the while, his voice rang out. The spell was like a song: a horribly difficult, complicated song in a language she didn't recognize. Even as Ginny thought this, a horrible pain seared through her brain.

A soft cry tumbled out of her mouth. And then another. A keening wail escaped her, and she gripped Harry's hand so tightly that she could feel his bones move. But he didn't pull away. Another hand gripped hers. Soft and warm and far smaller than Harry's. Ginny's eyes were squeezed shut, but she knew that her mum had knelt beside her and was now allowing Ginny to abuse her as well. And Ginny needed it. The pain was blinding, and it just kept building and building and building.

"Something's wrong!" Tonks said loudly. "Mine wasn't nearly as bad, look her lips are turning blue. Bill—"

And then it was over. One final throb of agony, and Ginny literally felt the black wall in her mind come tumbling down. The fire that caught hold of her brain was immediately extinguished as effectively as if someone had used the Aguamenti Charm on it. The effects didn't disappear as swiftly, however. It took some time before Ginny's muscles were able to relax fully. And she kept her eyes shut.

Thoughts kept whispering through her mind, and it was another kind of agony that she couldn't capture one and keep it with her. She licked her dry lips repeatedly. A glass was thrust in her hand, and she drank the water greedily. Someone spoke – at the moment Ginny couldn't tell who it was – and someone else abruptly said she needed quiet. She'd never been around her family when it was so quiet. That made her think of the Mirror of Erised, and how damn badly she'd wanted to come home for so long. And of course, after that fleeting thought, that made her think of being in the closet with Harry…

Harry, who was stroking her palm with his thumb, was still sitting beside her. Ginny had a feeling that it had been a long, long time since Bill had cast the spell. What if they never made it to the Muggle inn tonight? And she wanted to go with him, and make love to him in a real bed. It would be far more comfortable in a bed than on the floor, after all. The first time straddling his lap, and the second with him moving inside her, above her… that precious memory she'd clung to, despite herself, during those horrible months of recovery. Now that she knew that  _Harry_  was Grumpy…

"I can't believe I've fallen in love with you three times in my life," she murmured in a voice that was barely audible. She finally opened her eyes, only to find a pair of green ones staring intently at her. "That's got to be some kind of record, eh?"

"We share the record, then," Harry said just as quietly.

Ginny's gaze flickered around the room. No one else appeared to have heard her, which made her glad. She hadn't entirely meant to speak that thought out loud, and she was grateful it was kept private. Just between her and Harry.

"Ginny, I know you couldn't say it, but…" he swallowed. "Is the reason why you were gone… did you – did we – those times in the closet—"

"She's awake!"

It was her father, this time, who came to kneel beside the sofa. "Ginny! Ginny…" But he seemed just as disoriented as she felt, for he could not seem to finish his sentence.

"We're all dying here, Ginny," Ron said in his usual tactful manner. "If you could toss us a bit of information, that'd be great."

Ginny managed to roll her eyes. But Harry's question was more important, and she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "No, Harry. There wasn't a baby. There wasn't, I swear." Fresh tears stung her eyes.  _If only._  His face, which had been taut with worry, eased somewhat.

But Harry's worry reminded her of something very important, and she jolted up. At the same time, she tore her hand out of his grip and reached up to cup his jaw. "Harry,  _stop worrying about the missing Horcrux,_ " she said very deliberately. "When you told me that you thought it might still be out there, I swore to myself it would be the first thing I told you if I ever got that damn curse off of me." Ginny shook her head, impatient with herself. "It's important, and I—"

"I think the first thing you said was pretty important," Harry told her, smiling ruefully. "Ginny, I think you're still disoriented. If you want, we can wait to talk until tomorrow…"

"Like hell!" Bill said.

"Don't be mental, Harry," Ron said. "Ginny's a Weasley, just give her a few more minutes."

Harry turned and glared at him. "Maybe you weren't in this room for the last two hours, idiot, but that spell's a real bitch." He suddenly yelped and grabbed at his forearm. "Don't you—"

"Boys," Ginny's dad said mildly.

"Sorry," Harry and Ron said together.

Ginny watched this, feeling slightly bemused. Whether this was still her recovery from the breaking of the curse, or the fact that her boyfriend seemed more welcomed by her family than she was, Ginny simply didn't know. "Ron, if you sting Harry again, I'll remind you what Fred's favorite hex was." She grimaced when she felt another flash of pain in her head.

"I told you she was feeling well enough to give us a little bedtime story," Ron said cheerfully. Ginny peered at him. His voice might be cheerful, but she read anxiety in his face, and the way he held Hermione so close to his body. "What's this about the Horcrux?"

"Ginny, love, could you start at the beginning?"

It was the voice she had most dreaded hearing, and Ginny had to force herself to look at her mother. Molly had shown a lot of grace when she'd held her hand throughout the curse breaking, but Ginny knew that she must be angry. Fully expecting to see her mother on the verge of screaming, instead she saw gentleness. No rage, just love.

Something broke – or perhaps was healed – inside Ginny at that moment. "Oh, Mum, I'm so sorry." The words were torn out of her. "If I'd known what I was getting into, I would've understood you more. I still would've done it, because of Barrow, but I wouldn't have been so  _angry_  with you."

"Barrow?" her father asked, perplexed.

"A little first year the Death Eaters were going to hand over to the Dementors." Ginny leaned back into the sofa and covered her eyes.  _Get a grip on yourself,_  she told herself sternly. It was maddening this was, constantly being on the verge of tears. She could count on one hand how many times she'd cried – except out of pain – since right after she and Grumpy had had sex for the first time. But tonight she was practically an Aguamenti Charm made flesh.

"Start at the beginning," Harry advised.

And Ginny did. She was proud of herself, in the end, because she didn't cry. Even though tears kept threatening to spill over, she somehow managed to say everything she'd wanted to for  _so long._  At first her words were halting. And at first she flitted from moment to moment, and surely her explanation didn't make much sense. For some reason, she spent a good thirty seconds describing the way Moody's mad eye had spun around, watching her, the day she'd joined the Order. But her audience was rapt. No one interrupted. Harry was a steady presence at her side, but she didn't look at him. Once she began, she didn't really look at anyone. Keeping her gaze fixed on the ceiling, or the wall, or the shattered teacup on the floor, kept the tears at bay.

She saved three things for last.

"The Horcrux was in the Room of Requirement, Harry," she said earnestly, looking directly into his eyes for the first time since she'd begun talking. "Moody wanted me to scour Hogwarts for a Horcrux. He had a feeling one was there, and he was right. One night, I was looking for it, got chased by the Carrows, and found myself at the Room. But I was still intent on the Horcrux, you see? So I found myself in this huge room filled with stacks and stacks of things… you wouldn't believe how much  _stuff_  was in there. I searched and finally found it. I destroyed it the next day. I can show it to you, we can go now, if you need to see it, Harry—"

"No, I believe you," Harry said. "And remember – we know about Finny. They used to give Ron free drinks because he has the red hair…"

"Right. I know." Ginny's head was still a little fuzzy. She looked 'round at the rest of her family. "I checked when I came back ho—to London," Ginny said. "It was Draco Malfoy that was ready to give her up," Ginny said. "He was at the school, meeting with one of the Carrows." Ginny stared down at her hands, remembering that night. "I couldn't let him hurt that girl," she said firmly. "We had a brief altercation, and Draco didn't survive it."

The room was utterly and completely still.

Typically, it was Ron who broke the silence. "Well, I'm glad it was at least one of us Weasleys who made sure Draco met his end," he said. "Even if it couldn't be me. That's two favors you've done me, Ginny." His voice was unwontedly serious, and Ginny was shocked to hear it tremble. "The big one was when you saved my life."

Ginny's mouth dropped open, and she gaped at her brother. "That was  _you_?" Her stomach dropped, and a cold sweat beaded on her brow. Beside her, Harry sighed. "No wonder why you were so grumpy," she told him. But her entire body had started to shake. So many things could have gone wrong with that mission – so many things  _had_  gone wrong – and her brother's  _life_  had been at stake.

Ginny didn't think she could've done it had she known.

 _It's personal for you, isn't it?_  she'd asked Grumpy.

Ginny looked at her mother again. Her eyes were wide open, and her mouth trembled. She made a little fluttering gesture with her hands. "Ginny," she said. And Ginny knew that this was the moment of full truth. "Why didn't you come home? Why did you leave?"

Ginny exhaled slowly and inhaled deeply. "Harry, do you remember when we were trying to get to the potion, and I  _stupidly_  dropped one of the phials? It was orange, and I cut my leg…"

"Yes," he said cautiously. "Is that where the scar came from?"

"It was poison," Ginny said simply. "It got into the cut on my leg, and… I was pretty sick." The tears sprang back into her eyes. With a massive effort, she managed to keep them from falling, but it was a near thing.

" _Ginny_ ," her dad said.

Harry stood up abruptly, and ruffled his hair. "So the world tour… it was never that, was it. It was you dying."

Ginny blinked. His voice was so cold, and she thought back frantically. What had she done that had made him so angry? And her eyes fluttered closed when she hit upon it. "Harry, I honestly didn't mean to kill Draco. I don't – I'm not – I didn't want to kill anyone. He tried to use the Cruciatus Curse, and I threw a Reducto at him… he flew back into a tree and broke his neck." Suddenly she was on her feet.

Harry gaped at her. "Ginny, sit down," he said soothingly.

"Don't tell me to sit down," she said sharply. Seconds later, however, her eyesight unfocused and the sudden dizziness  _forced_  her to sit down. Still agitated, she locked her fingers together and blinked rapidly. Her entire face felt like little pins had been stuck to it, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

"Maybe we should take her to St. Mungo's," Hermione murmured.

"No, I don't need St. Mungo's, I just need Harry not to be angry and not look at me like I'm – I'm a murderer," Ginny said before she could stop herself.

"I don't think you're a murderer!" Harry shouted. Ginny's gaze flew up to him. He may not think she was a cold-blooded killer, but he was certainly furious with her. Her head pounded, and she unclasped her hands and pressed her palms against her forehead.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout," Harry said in a gentler voice. He plopped onto the couch next to her, and a warm hand squeezed her knee. "I'm the furthest thing from angry with you. Besides, I'd be a hypocrite if I judged you for killing Malfoy, Ginny. I think… I think if Moody was in this room with us, I'd kill him."

Shocked, Ginny swiveled to stare at him fully. Searching his expression, she could only see deadly honesty.  _Why did he want to kill Moody?_

"He's not the only one," Ron said. "I'd help him."

"I knew the charm was a bad idea," Hermione said in a no-nonsense tone.

"Spare us the I-told-you-so," Harry said angrily. "Moody was the best leader available."

A loud clamor broke out after that. Ginny winced, holding her head tighter. She understood, a little, why Harry thought he wanted to kill Moody. It was just a little extreme, but she'd always known Harry was intense. It was one of the things she loved most about him. He threw himself headlong into life with a drive and determination Ginny hadn't seen matched. Now that he'd turned against Moody – or his memory, anyway – it stood to reason that he'd go all out.

Ginny put her elbows on her knees and leaned forward into her hands.

"I could kill him for letting Ginny join the Order. He  _never_  should have let her.  _Never._  It's his fault… Ginny didn't know any better."

It was her mother, of course.

"I agree," said Bill. "How could he do that to us?"

Ice flooded Ginny's belly, and some of her usual clarity returned. She squeezed her eyes shut. Ginny had earlier mistaken it for grace and acceptance. Instead of her mother seeing her as an adult, and accepting the fact that Ginny had joined the Order, she blamed Moody for everything. In her eyes, Ginny was still just a naughty child who couldn't even be blamed for what had happened because Ginny didn't  _know any better._

Cold anger continued to well up inside her.

Moody had been a paranoid son of a bitch; there was no denying that. But her family was so convinced that she was still a child that they were blind to the woman she'd become. It was why the flimsy lie that she'd taken off for a tour of the world had worked so well. It was why they'd never come looking for her. Why they'd never even  _suspected_  - even though so many others had found themselves in the same situation – that she'd been bound by Moody's curse.

Tonks had gone through it.  _Neville Longbottom_  had gone through it.

 _But I'm the baby,_  Ginny thought scathingly. They still thought she was the helpless little girl who needed to be rescued from the Chamber of Secrets. Her angry thoughts had the power to make her headache even worse until Ginny thought her head might split in two. She took deep breaths, but that didn't help. Only one thing really would.

"Harry," she whispered, licking dry lips. "I need to leave. Please take me away."

"Yeah, of course, let's go," he said immediately, standing up. No one seemed to notice as they made their way through the living room. Her mother was involved in some sort of argument with Tonks and Bill, and her father and Remus were huddled in the corner with very serious looks on their faces.

Only Ron and Hermione were watching him.

"You're leaving?" Ron asked. He did not sound surprised in the slightest.

Ginny forced a smile. "I need peace. And quiet."  _And Harry,_  she added silently.

Harry nodded. "But we're going to St. Mungo's first." He looked down at her just as she opened her mouth to protest; his bright green eyes were very serious behind his glasses. "I think they might have something to help with the pain."

Ginny let out a breath. "All right," she said. "As long as it isn't orange. And deadly."

"See you tomorrow," Ron said.

Harry wrapped his arm around her waist and led her out of the living room, out of the house, and into the welcome quiet of the night.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

They were in and out of St. Mungo's in less than an hour. Harry'd never consciously used his fame, but he did not refuse immediate service. They rushed a potion out to Ginny. It seemed the moment it touched her lips, it started to work. She no longer looked like a wax statue, but more like herself. Harry never wanted to see her look so ill again.

Damn that man, Harry thought angrily.

Ginny touched his hand. "Please let it go. I don't want to think about again tonight. Tonight is supposed to be special."

Harry shoved all thoughts of Moody aside. "Special? We can still—?"

"Well, I want to," said Ginny.

"Me too!"

Harry was in even more of a rush. He had not wanted to be selfish... he'd wait as long as it took, as long as he needed... but if she was ready, damn it, so was he.

"You're going to be fine," announced the healer.

Harry was hustling Ginny away. "Thank you so much for your time," she yelled over her shoulder. The healer grinned and waved.

"Where should we go?" Ginny asked as they sped toward the entrance. "Still want to go to a Muggle inn? If not, I know of a nice closet... we wouldn't even have to leave St. Mungo's."

Harry snorted. "No, no, I've got a better idea."

Ginny tucked her arm into the crook of his, and Harry apparated them to his cottage. No need for them to go to some Muggle establishment— Remus and Tonks knew about them now, there was no longer any need to hide. Harry let her in, and then — very carefully — pulled her into his arms.

He held her. God. There was so much to talk about, so much to say. He was simply amazed. Ginny was Nosy. Ginny, his teen crush, his brightness before the war... she was Nosy, who had been his comfort at a dark moment. Ginny. The woman of his dreams. How'd he get so lucky?

He wanted to tell her that, but he was afraid everything was going to come out jumbled, so when he kissed her, he tried to put in all those feelings into it.

Harry thought he might have done a pretty good job at that, because she sighed and melted into him. He kissed her for what felt like hours, or several sunlit days. It was a shockingly innocent kiss, compared to those that had come before. When they pulled apart, they were both trembling.

"How did I get so lucky?" Harry murmured.

This second kiss was less innocent. When Ginny broke it, Harry was hard and tight against her belly.

"Can we go to bed?" Ginny asked. "I want to be warm."

Harry took her hand and led her down the hall, toward his bedroom. He hoped he'd remembered to tidy it before he left, and was relieved to find the bed made, and his clothes put away. The best feature of the room, Harry thought, was the fireplace across from the bed. With a flick of his wand, he lit it.

"Very romantic," Ginny said, half amused and half shy.

Harry smiled at her, feeling another bubble of elation. He sat at the edge of the bed, and pulled Ginny toward him. "I meant it," Harry said. "I'm so lucky."

"Almost as lucky as me," said Ginny. Then she began to undress, and Harry could no longer form words. Inch by tantalizing inch, more of her was revealed. Creamy shoulders, shapely arms... Ginny did some sort of magic trick with her fingers, and her bra slid off... revealing her perfect breasts. Firelight flickered over them. Her nipples were soft and puffy, not the hard little points he was used to. Then she pulled down her knickers, and Harry nearly swallowed his tongue.

She was perfect, Ginny. Harry stared at the thatch of red hair between her thighs, wanted to touch it, kiss it, put himself inside of it. He stood and grabbed her hands again, and raised them up over her head. He twirled her, wanting to see her whole body.

Ginny let him twirl her twice more before she pulled away and bounced onto the bed. "Your turn!" she crowed.

Harry shucked off his clothes as fast as he could, and followed her onto the bed.

"What, no!" Ginny cried.

Harry froze.

"No, no, no, I want to see it! I need to see it!"

Harry flushed, feeling suddenly self-conscious, but rolled over onto his knees. He even scooted closer, so she'd have a good view. Ginny sat up and looked at him eagerly, making a low noise of satisfaction. She took him in her hand and said, "We are going to have so much fun."

Harry laughed...

...and choked when she sucked him into her mouth.

Oh God.

Her tongue swirled around the tip, her hands were up and down his shaft, and Harry tried so hard to hold it in, but within minutes, he could feel himself... "Ginny!" he said in a strangled voice. "I'm going to come."

She gave him a heated look, made that move with her tongue again, and Harry came in her mouth. His whole body shook as he watched her swallow.

"That was brilliant," Harry said fervently. And honestly, he'd wondered why the Gryffindor boys would speak of blow jobs with such awe, and now he knew. Blow jobs were magical.

And Harry knew he wanted to create a magical experience for Ginny as well, so he shoved aside the post-orgasm lassitude and laid down between her thighs. It was a great view: she was totally open to him. He could see her little clit; under it was her opening. It glistened with wetness, smelled delicious, and Harry put his mouth on it.

It took a while, but Harry licked and sucked and rubbed her clit until Ginny's entire body was writhing, she was moaning, and every once in a while, her hips would spasm. Then, suddenly, she grabbed his head and pulled him tight against her... Harry felt her come.

"That was amazing," Ginny said hoarsely. "That was magic."

Harry moved up her body and kissed her lips. Her hands stroked his back. "You taste so good, Gin, look, you already got me hard again." To prove it, he adjusted his erection so it lay on her hip.

"Harry," Ginny bit her lip. She stroked her hand over his chest, lightly brushing his nipples. "Can we... make love now?"

"Oh, yes," Harry said softly. She spread her legs wider and raised her knees. Harry positioned himself at her opening. She was still so wet from his mouth and her orgasm... Harry slid in so easily... they both groaned as he buried himself in her.

"Wanted this for so long," said Ginny.

Harry was grateful she'd already made him come, because he was able to play for a long time, moving in and out of her, trying this angle and that. He found several good ones, ones that made Ginny gasp out a "yes!", and one that made him grunt in surprise. He kept playing until suddenly the urgency was there again... he moved into her harder, faster... she wrapped her legs around him, and then he felt her clamp down around him, spasming, and Harry came with a strangled shout.

He collapsed on top of her, utterly exhausted, he couldn't even move. And he did not particularly want to. He rolled them over on their sides, and nuzzled her. It felt just about the perfect moment. Ginny was in his arms, the fire was lit... Ginny was Nosy... his eyelids suddenly felt very heavy. Stroking Ginny's hair, he felt complete contentment.

All was right with the world.

**THE END**


	17. Part III

Carnivals are a place where magic happens — well, that's how the showmen would present it. They travel about, peddling entertainment and exotic creatures, and if people have had just the right level of fun, they are wont to ignore the fact almost all of it is a sham.

Take Little Franz and Gregorio, for example, traveling with (?). Night after night and town after town, they were presented as near feral half-werewolves from Turkey. In fact, they were a (mostly housebroken) set of twins from somewhere in Britain. As it happens, their provenance is far more interesting than any of the other unusual (and highly improbable) tales the carnival showmen make up. If they could but remember it, they would have a tale that would awe even the most cynical carnival-goer.

Alas, the only thing either Little Franz or Gregorio remembered was waking up in a moving caravan, throats dry, heads throbbing like mad, and a few carnies staring at them. They were offered a job — "Just until you get back on your feet"—but it's been several years now, and they never really left. The leaders did not want them to leave — aside from being natural in front of the crowd, they could... do things that defied explanation.

It was a rainy night. "Well, Granz, tonight was—"

"—another great night, indeed it was, Fregorio—"

The wolfboys had pulled off all their extra fur, and were down to their shorts. It had indeed been an excellent night. Little Franz had perfected his knife juggling, and Gregorio had pulled off breathing fire. That he had done this without matches or a lighter was his secret. Only Little Franz knew.

The wolfboys had been accumulating secrets since the carnival had first taken them in. The inexplicable things began to happen in terrifying trickles. Little Franz had ended up in a tree, once, just flew up there without having to climb. Gregorio could light fires with a wave of his hand... it had been terrifying at first.

But then the mysterious letters started to arrive.

At first the letters unnerved them. How was it they were sent by owls? And not even the same owls every time? And this Ginny... at first they wondered if they were being contacted by some nutter... but then Little Franz was juggling one afternoon, and he somehow managed to toss Gregorio up in the air and juggle him too. It made it slightly more easy to read such casual mentions of "spells" and "curses" and "Quidditch".

By the time spring was edging into summer, Little Franz and Gregorio had decided they needed to somehow contact this Ginny person (they suspected she was their sister, as she had spent several pages complaining about being berated in public by "our stupid brothers, and Mum and Dad just sat by"). "I think she thinks we're dead," Gregorio said.

"So why's she talking to dead people, then?" Little Franz asked. "Maybe we're just missing, and presumed dead."

Gregorio just shook his head.

They tried everything. They tried capturing an owl, but they were clever little beasts, and Little Franz's finger took several weeks to heal. They tried making paper airplanes—("I thiiiiink I remember people using paper airplanes to send messages," said Gregorio)—but they only ever flew ten feet, and certainly did not manage to reach the mysterious Ginny.

Come find us, all the messages said. Increasingly, this was all Little Franz and Gregorio could think of. They wanted to leave... but all they knew, all they could remember, was this carnival. What if they set off to find the magical Ginny, and they lost everything? Neither one of them liked to admit they were scared...

"What should we try next?" Their little gypsy caravan was dark. They'd been trying to sleep for hours.

Little Franz rustled his bedclothes. "Maybe we should write it in fireworks..."

Gregorio laughed despite himself. "That sounds like fun... making fireworks say things..." It felt almost like a memory.

"We'll light it up all over Devon," Little Franz added dreamily. "She'll see it..."

"Don't you mean the Orkney Islands? She said she's in the Orkneys, and she's bloody tired of the cold."

"Oh yeah, I meant the Orkneys," Little Franz said.

Gregorio sniggered. "That poor Harry fellow. Poor both of them."

The Turkish wolfboys were quiet again, and soon slipped into dreams — one dreamed of a crooked house with smoke coming out of its chimney, a place that looked like home. The other dreamed of two older people, sitting around a fire, looking sad... both cried in their sleep, but when they awoke, neither remembered finding their home, if only in their dreams.


	18. You Can't Go Home Again

July 07, 2000 – July 09, 2000

The night crept by dragging grief in its wake. At one point, rain fell like tears from the sky, as though the sky cried Molly's own tears.

"I think I might be insane," she confessed to her husband around four in the morning. Her fingers fumbled with the bedclothes, and silent tears streamed down her face. Molly had never been one to cry quietly. Her emotions had almost always been a flash in the cauldron: tempest-tossed and then soon over.

Even when her brothers had died, it hadn't been like this. But as much as she had loved Fabian and Gideon, Molly had found fierce, abiding love for her children as she and Arthur built their family with loving joy. Now that love had transmuted into grief, having no other outlet.

"I don't think you're insane, Molly," Arthur said quietly, reaching for her hand in the dark and clasping it tightly in his own. "Unless we are both afflicted." He drew a deep, shuddering breath. Molly turned slightly and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "I know I don't… cry like you do," he added, his voice tinged with guilt. "But I—"

"I know," Molly said. Arthur was steady and calm – outwardly. But Molly had loved this man for the majority of her life, and she knew that a part of him had steadily been demolished with each passing year in the long war. It was over now. He Who Must Not Be Named was dead, his ashes scattered to the wind. The Wizarding World was healing.

But the Burrow was silent and grim.

 _And Arthur doesn't ever go out to his shed and tinker with those blasted Muggle contraptions,_  Molly thought.  _He hasn't called me Mollywobbles since the twins were stolen from us. And when he touches me, there's almost a reluctance and guilt, as though we ought not to make love._

There were many flavors of sorrow, Molly knew now. There was the sorrow of having both her twins die, and losing forever the chance to watch them become the men she knew they would: bright, merry, and determined to fill the world with laughter. She had lost other children, too, but not to death.

Percy had never forgiven them for being right. Arthur saw him at times in the Ministry, and their solemn, proud boy would not unbend enough to give more than a nod of greeting. He had always been the quietest of their children, and now he was silent.

There was one bright spot in the last year: Ginny had finally come home. Home to England, but not to the Burrow. But even that was tempered by the awful feeling that Molly had failed her.  _I should have_ known, Molly thought.  _I should have known my only daughter well enough to know that she wouldn't abandon her family out of a pique of rage._  But she had never thought, never considered there were more malevolent reasons for Ginny's long disappearance.

"Off exploring the world!" Molly said out loud, voice catching. "How could I have been so blind?  _Of course_  she'd defy us and…" There was no need to explain to Arthur her thought processes. He knew her as well as she knew herself; besides, this was not the first time Molly had said these words.

"I  _failed_  her," Arthur said.

" _We_  failed her," Molly argued firmly.

It was heartbreaking to think that Ginny had been so alone for an entire year. She had been on the brink of death, and Molly had thought her selfish and childish. Instead, Ginny had been the one to help Harry save Ron's life, and had nearly lost her own in doing so. Poisoned.

Ginny had never come right out and said that she blamed them. Not explicitly. But Molly would never forget the terrible, vulnerable look in her daughter's eyes when she said  _I thought you would come after me or try to find me._  Molly had gone after Percy once and had been refuted. Not wanting to endure that again, she had failed her daughter.

Molly listened to the rain beat against the Burrow, and wondered how they had come to this. The Burrow of yesterday had been such a joyous place, filled with the laughter of children and a cozy kitchen and Arthur's absurd collection of Muggle artifacts. Now the very same home that she'd taken such great pride in seemed heavily weighted with Molly and Arthur's grief. It pressed all around her, suffocating her.

"I think we should move," Arthur said suddenly.

"Move!"

"No, I know we need to move." Her husband sat up in bed, determination etched on his face. "The Burrow"—his voice cracked—"just isn't the same anymore. We need a fresh start. We can't keep living like this. It's too much for us – for me. The children… aren't here anymore," he added gently, looking over at her.

Molly thought of the empty rooms in the house. She had never been able to change anything about them. Percy's room was still tidy; his quills and ink bottles and spare parchment were still in the battered little desk he'd spent so much time hunched over. Ginny's room, with the view of the orchard, had not been changed one whit; Molly had thought to ask her if she wanted her old posters and things, but had never managed to get the words out. The twins' room was barely fit for habitation, with its scorch marks and containers strewn all over the place; but that was the way her wild boys had liked it, and Molly couldn't bear to change it. Even Ron's room - her son so bent on revenge against those who had harmed his family that Molly was afraid she was losing him too – was still its riotous shade of orange.

"You're right," Molly sighed, barely audible to her own ears. "You're right. We should move. We will."

Arthur made as if to get out of bed; the daft man seemed to think he should start packing now. Molly laid a hand on his arm.

"Not yet," she told him. "Let's wait."

"Molly, we should move  _now_ ," Arthur said urgently. "Because… because what if we can't later? We'll just be – be stuck here."

"We'll move, I swear it," Molly said. For once, her tears had dried, and she felt more determined than she had in a long while. "But Arthur… we should have one last summer here. For the children."

_The ones we have left._

Molly didn't say those words. She didn't have to. Both of them knew they were there. Arthur lay back down and pulled her into his arms, hands gently moving over her body. Molly glanced up at him once, some minutes later. His jaw was tight and his eyes squeezed tightly closed. At the end he whispered her name over and over and over again like a prayer, and she thought she saw tears forming on his lashes.

 _One last summer,_  Molly thought.  _And then we'll move and move on and keep moving forward until this bitter grief has lost its edge._

At last they fell asleep, nestled next to each other the way they had done for thirty years. Molly's dreams were frightening, horrible things. Unseen monsters chased her into a dark room, trying to tear something from her. She woke up some time in the late morning, clutching Arthur's hand. Her eyes were sandpapery. Molly had stayed up much too late for it to be a good morning. The back of her throat tasted coppery, as though she had bitten her lip in the night.

She heaved herself out of bed, and into their tiny bathroom to brush her teeth.  _I look a fright,_ she thought.

Last night had been terrible.

Molly lay back down next to Arthur and closed her eyes, determined to get a few more hours of sleep before they… started their project…

She woke again at dusk. Arthur handed her a cup of hot tea before she'd even opened her eyes. "We were going to have one more summer," Molly murmured.

"Hmm, dear?" Arthur said.

Molly had a cobwebby type feeling in her head, and she took a long gulp of the tea, hoping that might clear it. "We were going to have one more summer before we move," said Molly.

"Move? Leave the Burrow?" Arthur looked round at her in surprise.

"Was that part of my dream?" Molly asked. "I had a terrible nightmare, you know, of this terrible creature…"

"If you want to leave the Burrow…"

"No, I don't think I do," said Molly, shaking her head. "I think that must have been part of the dream." Leave the Burrow!

They were quiet for long moments, sipping their tea, thinking their thoughts. Molly could not shake the feeling that she had forgotten something vital, something important, and that it had to do with her little girl. "Ginny," she sighed.

"I keep hoping she'll come home," said Arthur. He had not even skipped a beat, as though they had both been thinking of her at once, and in exactly the same way. They'd been so worried about her, joining the Aurors, after her year abroad. Molly wished she'd  _just come home_. Leave the dangerous work for her brothers… they'd been part of the Order, after all…

Something jolted in her stomach. Her hands trembled, and she nearly spilled her tea.

"All right, Molly?" Arthur asked gently.

"Just… that nightmare," she said.

Neither one did much talking after that. The feeling of weirdness did not go away, even as Molly went down to the kitchen to prepare dinner. It was nearly ten before they ate, but neither were too concerned about that. "Wasn't last night lovely?" Molly finally broke the silence. "Harry and Ginny, together! We should… have them over… maybe for her birthday? Or his?"

"That sounds wonderful, dear," said Arthur, "But why are you crying?"

Molly, who had not known that great big tears were slipping down her cheeks, shrugged. "It's a little emotional, seeing your little girl with a man…"

"Ah, yes," said Arthur, taking a bite of his sandwich. "That it is."

Arthur and Molly cleaned up the kitchen, and went back to bed, settling in with a book and a knitting project. "I do hope I won't have another nightmare," Molly said, a few hours later, when she was finally feeling like she ought to be able to sleep.

"Just hold my hand," Arthur advised.

And she did.

When Molly woke up the next morning, she'd quite forgotten the unease and uncertainty of the day before.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

July 10, 2000

"You have a couple of choices," Tonks breezed into Harry's office. "Well, Ginny has a couple of choices."

She sat at the edge of his desk and gave him a direct look.

"I appreciate the fact I still have a job," Harry began earnestly. It was true. He did not want to give up being an Auror. Ginny did not want to give up being an Auror. Harry would do it for Ginny, but damned if it would be hard to find a different job.

"There are not only mitigating circumstances — Ginny being a member of — a member of the Order," Tonks tripped over her words. "Sorry. Ginny was a member of the Order, there's a standing invitation for any Order member to join the Aurors."

Ah yes! Harry had forgotten that detail. Not that he had done very much thinking over the long weekend with Ginny...

"She has the choice. I can send her straight to London to partner up with someone, or she can stay here. She can stay as a student, or we could promote her to a sort of... junior position to you and Ron."

The latter seemed like the best choice to Harry, but... "Shouldn't Ginny be here for this? It's her choice, isn't it?"

Tonks blinked and shook her head slightly. "Sorry, Harry. It's been a long few weeks. Of course Ginny should be here..."

"She should be here any minute," Harry assured her.

And she was. Harry watched her stride in. She was confident, Ginny was. He'd been enjoying that side of her all weekend. Harry barely paid attention to what the two witches were talking about... it didn't concern him, not really... he wanted to think about Ginny, and how she'd been riding him on his sofa not even four hours previously.

"Thank you, Tonks," Ginny was saying. "I appreciate the chance..."

"—you know, we banned relationships because there were too many instances of power dynamics being harmful for the trainees—"

Harry leaned his head back, and relived a particularly heated encounter.

"—I do think that's the best option, I'm not sure if I'm completely ready to be in the field—"

Harry snorted. Ginny was ready for anything. She was brilliant, Ginny. But he could see the appeal in staying. Merlin knew, Harry wanted Ginny to stick around.

"So that's decided?" Tonks asked. "You'll help Ron and Harry?"

"Yes," said Ginny.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

10 July 2000

Percy Weasley woke up slowly, and in a great deal of pain. With shaking hands, he reached for his wand. There was no way to tell how long this spell had lasted—usually, it lasted a day, but Percy was in much too much pain for it to only have been a day. "There may be some pain, lad," Moody had said. Percy choked on a laugh. Some pain.

More like blinding, searing pain from which the only escape was unconsciousness. He muttered the spell that would clean himself up. It did awful things to his intestines, it did.

And it had seemed like such a good idea at the time...

_"It's safer for you, for your cover, if you don't tell them," Moody said gruffly, his glass eye whizzing in its socket. Percy could not stop looking at it._

_It had taken hours of talking before Percy had got Moody persuaded that he was sincere in his desire to join the Order. And it made sense that Percy could not go running off to the Burrow to see his Mum and to apologize to her. That could come later, after they won._

_"In fact, I have the perfect job for you," said Moody. "I've been researching ways to better protect the Order, and I've found a... charm that would do it, but I needed — someone to house the charm..."_

_Percy felt a pang of apprehension. A charm needed a living host to maintain it? That sounded more like a curse. Come off it, Percival, Percy ordered himself. You're finally going to fight for the right side. Mad-Eye's eye stop whirling, and fixed him in its gaze. Percy had the sudden feeling that it could see straight inside him, past his innards, and right into the shadowy corners where he kept his pettiest feelings._

_"I'll do anything," said Percy, humbled._

_It was a ritual spell. Again, Percy's mind slid away from the word curse. Moody was the head of the Order. He would not do anything to hurt them... he was trying to protect them._

_"All right, swallow this," said Moody. Percy caught a fleeting glimpse of a scroll with a list of glowing names. Including Fred and George._

_"Wait, what?" Percy cried._

_"Swallow it!"_

_"But my—"_

_Moody shoved the paper into Percy's mouth, where it instantly dissolved into a gooey substance that tasted of a thousand different things. It slid down the back of his throat. Percy swallowed dutifully._

_"There, now it's keyed to you... keyed to your blood," Moody said, a fanatic gleam in his real eye. "The Weasleys... you're related to nearly everyone in our world. You've just made protecting them so much easier!"_

_Percy was again reminded of the curses he'd learned about in his seventh year of Hogwarts. They were forbidden now, but wizarding families had used the blood curses through the ages. Steal a member of the family, perform a ritual, and they had sudden control over the everyone related by blood to whomever they held. It sounded... very much like what Moody was doing._

_Percy shoved that thought away._

_"What of my brothers," Percy said flatly._

_"They are, as you see, alive," said Moody, briskly. "They got caught in the Web at St. Mungo's — it scrambled their brains. I found them, but there was nothing I could do for their memories—"_

_"Surely a healer could—"_

_"We don't have any healers," Moody said gruffly._

_"So you — what? Where are they?"_

_"I bound them to a carnival that was passing through London," said Moody. "They are fine. They'll be fine until all of this is over..."_

_"But — everyone thinks they're dead! My family thinks they're dead!" Percy nearly shouted._

_"Ah, lad," Moody looked sorrowful. "Sometimes the right thing is the hard thing. And it's not forever. The moment the war's over, finding the twins is the first thing I'll do. The very first thing. Second thing, I'll take the — charm off you. Everyone gets to have their life back after the war."_

_Percy had gone home not long after that, to his lonely little flat in a small building owned by American wizards. It was a little oasis in the heart of Muggle London. He'd loved it. The ritual had taken a lot out of him, and he'd laid his head down on his pillow, intending a quick nap, but had not woken up for three days._

_It was Moody knocking on the door that woke him. "Need to update something," he pushed through the door. Percy was still weak and wobbly on his feet. This sent him to his bum._

_Another little scroll was pushed toward him. Percy was dismayed to see his sister's name writ there in glowing, golden letters. "No, not Ginevra," Percy shook his head. "No, I cannot condone doing this to Ginevra. I will not—"_

_There was a whisper right next to Percy's ear. He tried to swat at it, but his limbs were suddenly so heavy, and he was so drowsy... the sooner he listened to Moody, the sooner he could go back to bed._

_"I need someone at Hogwarts," said Moody, as though from a long distance. "She volunteered. She came to me, the same way you did."_

_"I know she did," Percy said sadly. He swallowed the scroll. "Of course she did. She's seventeen, is she not?"_

_Moody looked at him sharply. "You make a good point," he said. He paced Percy's small sitting room, muttering to himself._

_"Here's what I'll do... just temporary, mind you..."_

_He placed a small, silver knife against the palm of Percy's hand and cut. A drop of blood beaded on the edge of the knife, and Moody placed the tip of his wand against it. "You will not suspect Ginevra Weasley of being part of the Order," he growled out. "You will not disrupt her missions... you will not go barging off looking for her..."_

_Percy placed his head in his shaking hands._

_"I need you to do one more thing for me,_ _tonight_ _if you can do it," said Moody. He sounded rather more compassionate than he did normally. "Your mum has that fabulous clock of hers... we can't let her see that so many of you are in danger. It would spoil her concentration."_

_"But your... charm," said Percy. "She can't go running after Ginny, anyway."_

_"But this will ease her mind... she doesn't even have to know the charm is there, this way, and once Voldemort is defeated, I'll lift that off you, and you'll all be reunited..."_ __  
  
Percy jerked out of his memory, a fresh wave of vomit coming out of his mouth. It was golden, gelatinous stuff. It had the consistency of pudding, but the smell of rotting fruit. As Percy watched, the gelatinous mix smoked and frothed and turned into a scroll.

GINEVRA WEASLEY, it read.

Percy collapsed on the floor in relief. She was free of it. Not all of it, he knew, she wasn't free of the stuff that came after... but some of it. He forced himself to his knees, and methodically began to clean up the sick and the mess he'd been lying in for who knew how long... it happened like this, every time they broke the curse off an Order member. Percy was just relieved this time it was Ginny... she'd been under the curse so long, maybe she'd recognize it in him...

Unable to help himself, Percy whispered, "Come find me."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

July 19, 2000

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

July 19, 2000

Harry and Ginny lay entwined on the sofa, still sweaty and breathing hard from a particularly adventurous round, when there was a flash of brilliant light, and a Patronus the shape of a wolf appeared next to them. As one, Harry and Ginny grabbed their wands and leapt to their feet.

"—something wrong. Be advised. Meet at Headquarters." Tonks's voice resonated around the room.

Harry grabbed for his underthings and robes, and was finished getting dressed only seconds behind Ginny. "You're fast," he told her approvingly. She flashed a grin at him, grabbed his arm, and Apparated them to the emergency Apparition area on the roof of the Ministry of Magic. They were jogging toward the rooftop entrance when Ron and Hermione popped into existence. Harry held the door for them, and peered off, checking to see if anyone followed. No one did, and he raced after the others, taking the stairs by threes, nearly tumbling, but righting himself at the last moment.

They burst into Tonks's office. Remus was there, looking unusually grave.

Tonks did not give them a chance to catch their breath. "Have you been back to the Burrow since we got the curse broken off Ginny?"

"No," they chorused.

"I haven't been to the Burrow in years," Ginny said slowly.

"And we may have to revisit that," Tonks gave her a sharp look. "Because I think it's curious that you've been back for half a year, and haven't once visited."

"I can't go home," said Ginny in a blank voice.

Tonks rolled her wand between her palms so hard that Harry expected to see flames from the friction. "Merlin. Okay. When Remus and I went to the Burrow, we had a conversation with Molly and Arthur, oh God, it's terrible."

"Of course, the conversation came around to Ginny and Moody's curse, but when we mentioned it, they were confused—"

"What?" said Harry. "What d'you mean, confused?"

"They had no memory of finding out Ginny was in the Order — none at all," Remus said heavily.

Silence. Harry gripped Ginny's hand in his own, and she squeezed back. A thousand thoughts stampeded in his brain. "Memory charm?" he asked.

"What are the parameters?" Hermione asked coolly, at the same time.

"It's not a memory charm," Remus said. "I checked for that."

"They remember everything except Ginny being under the curse. They know she's in training to be an Auror, they know she's with Harry, but their entire... affect changes when you mention Ginny and the Order," said Tonks.

"Much like how Dora would get a — a blank look on her face... before Bill broke the..." But Remus's face fell into a look of horror. "Oh God, we've always tried to believe it was a charm, didn't we? But we know it was a curse... oh, fuck me. It's a blood curse."

Harry and the others had not quite caught on, and were still exchanging befuddled glances. Tonks made a small exclamation. "What?! So that's how he had the oomph to lay it over the entire Order?"

"Were it a Weasley—"

"—they're related to EVERYONE—"

"All he has to do is get a bit of blood from the focus, and make it reverberate—"

Harry's head was starting to pound.

"Are you thinking it's Arthur and Molly?" Hermione asked.

Ginny stuck her fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle. "What the hell is going on?" she asked.

Remus and Tonks, with help from Hermione, quickly explained the mechanics of the blood curse. Harry's temple throbbed even more. So Moody had performed some sort of ritual on a Weasley to turn them into a focus, and anyone related to the focus was doubly affected by whatever spell or charm or curse Moody used on him. "But that sounds like dark magic!" Harry said, aghast.

"The darkest," Remus said grimly. "It's how the older families used to fight with each other."

"I told you!" Hermione burst out. "We never should have done it! We never should have let Moody go that far!"

Ron and Harry exchanged a speaking glance. Harry tilted his head; Ron nodded.

"You're right, Hermione," said Harry.

"Yeah, we should have listened to you," said Ron.

"Oh — you —" Hermione's eyes filled with tears.

"As long time coming as this is," Remus interrupted, sounding amused.

"Hold on, they've never let Hermione get away with an I-told-you-so before, let's give her another moment," Ginny murmured.

Hermione mopped at her eyes. "Well," she said graciously, "What do we do now? How do we break it?"

"We find the focus," said Remus. He frowned down at his hands. "And we have to suspect a secondary focus as well — no, not a person. An object, I suspect at the Burrow. Molly and Arthur are quite — quite buried under the curse, but Ron, you aren't affected much at all, are you? You remember that Ginny was in the Order?"

"No," said Ron, but he frowned. "But every time someone says that — says Ginny was in the Order, I feel... surprised. Every time."

"We're going to have to talk to Bill," said Tonks.

"First, we need to see my parents," Ron said firmly. He started pulling Hermione out the door, and the other couples followed.

"We may even need more curse-breakers," said Tonks. "We've got to find the focus Weasley, and what if breaking the original curse is even harder than when Bill had to break it off Ginny?" She talked as she moved, fast and clumsy. Remus kept her upright as they sped back to the roof. "We can get Tulip and... yes, we need Eleison... I'll floo them tonight..."

Then they were on the roof, nearly to the Apparition point. Harry held out his arm to Ginny—

"Wait, Harry, no! I forgot!"

He gathered his thoughts and pointed them toward the Burrow.

"The curse on Ginny—"

He turned on the spot and disappeared, felt his insides slide through a tube, and popped into existence just outside the gate at the Burrow. For one second everything was fine, and then something exploded next to his ear, Ginny was blown off his arm and away from him. He watched in horror as she twisted in midair, and fell to the ground with a sickening thump.


	19. Awake and Alive

Ginny came to awareness slowly. She was in a soft, warm bed. A window was open, she could taste salt on her lips — she was near the sea? There was a hand entwined with hers... someone was snoring...

"Harry?" she whispered.

He woke up with a jerk. "Ginny!" He whisper-shouted. "You're awake!"

"Where'm I? M'head hurts," she muttered. Even as she spoke, though, the pain receded.

"We're at Shell Cottage, Fleur just finished patching you up... says you'll be right as rain in an hour. I'm sorry you had to wake up before you were completely healed." Harry stroked her fingers, looking rueful. "Let me catch you up... apparently Moody used the focus to make it so you couldn't go home again... that's what blew you back, and also probably why you haven't even tried... or even thought about going to the Burrow, damn the man." He said all of this quickly and angrily. "Bill thinks they were all cursed not to look for you... everyone is right hacked off — not at you! Bill says—"

"Bill can speak for himself," said Bill. Ginny turned her head, wincing at the pain. He slouched in the doorway, and looked rather angrier than she'd ever seen him. The scars left by Fenrir Greyback stood out in sharp relief.

He moved further into the room. "Sorry — just got back from looking around the Burrow for a secondary focus. I had to leave — my thoughts were getting muddled. Anyway, Ginny — words can't even express how very sorry I am." He came and knelt on the other side of the bed, and Ginny was reminded of all the times he'd done this exact thing when she'd been little.

"I understand," Ginny said hoarsely. "It was the curse."

"I was so angry with you," Bill said. "So unfairly angry... I said those terrible things..."

"Don't say you're sorry," Ginny said warningly. "It's too late. I've already forgiven you. Moody, on the other hand..."

Bill chuckled a little, and both Harry and Ginny pretended not to see his eyes were wet. He leaned forward and kissed Ginny's forehead, then swung a glance at Harry. "No closets," he pointed at him. "Not until she's fully healed."

Harry stammered a bit as Ginny and Bill laughed.

Ginny winced once Bill left the room. "Laughing hurts," she said in a small voice. Everything ached, really, but it was getting measurably better.

"The focus?" Ginny asked.

Harry looked grim. "Not Bill, your parents, or Ron. Bill is going to contact Charlie, but he doesn't seem very hopeful. It's looking bad, Gin, like one of the twins was the focus. And Bill says it's nearly impossible to break a curse off a dead person... it's why the blood curses are banned."

There was a sharp ache in Ginny's stomach. "So what do we do?"

"We pray it's Charlie," said Harry.

Ginny's brow furrowed. "What of Percy? We ought to at least check him, don't you think?"

Harry gaped at her, and let out a huge breath. "Percy," he said. "We forgot Percy!"

"And we know he's at the joke shop," Ginny pointed out. It really was convenient how much better she felt already. It no longer hurt to breathe, and the dull roar in her head had subsided into a mild whimper.

Harry leapt to his feet. "I have to—"

"—help me up from this bed," Ginny finished for him, giving him a good glare.

"Help you up from this bed," sighed Harry. He did exactly that; he pushed the covers back, and pulled her into his arms. Their eyes met, and heat sprang up between them. He lifted her up, and carried her out of the room, still watching her.

Harry carried her all the way out the door, and down the stairs. Ginny thought she just might be able to get used to this.

Ginny kicked at the swinging door, revealing the sitting room. Everyone was there, it seemed: Remus, Tonks, Ron, Hermione, Fleur, Bill, and some of Bill's old school friends. "Rowan! Eleison!" Ginny cried. Another familiar face peeked at her. "Tulip!" She glanced at Ron, and grinned wickedly. "Are you still afraid of Rowan and Eleison, Ron?"

Ron chewed his snack and swallowed with great dignity. "I was never scared of them," he said.

"Rowan, Eleison, and Tulip are old friends of Bill's — and Tonks — from school," Ginny said in a low voice. "They were in Slytherin, and Ron was an idiot. Thought they were going to hex him. Although Charlie might've been the one to put that in his head... just wanting to have a laugh..."

Harry nodded. "I met them earlier, but no one really explained who they are..."

"Rowan's a healer, specializing in mental magic, and Eleison and Tulip are Curse-Breakers... Eleison's pretty renowned in Russia for her work..."

Harry nodded. The others chatted.

"Ginny had a thought upstairs," said Harry. "We've been worried — what if the focus is one of the twins? Then how could we perform any sort of ritual that could break it. We never even found their bodies..."

"And we still may have to consider that," Ginny pointed out, "awful as that may be. But we all forgot about Percy."

There was a splash and a thud: Ron had knocked over his goblet of water. Bill slammed his fist on the couch. "God damn it, Percy," said Bill, as though it was Percy's fault his family had nearly forgotten him.

"Let's not get our hopes up," Hermione cautioned.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Despite Hermione's misgivings, Harry's hopes were very much up. Of course it's Percy, thought Harry. Moody had not been nearly as paranoid before the twins died — he hadn't started his strict regime until after their deaths. "He probably came to Moody, wanting to join the Order," Harry spoke his thoughts out loud. "That's when Moody would've done it."

Ron gave a great snort. "Sure, like Percy would've done that."

"Percy was on the Ministry's side, remember?" This came from Ginny.

But Harry was just as stubborn as his Weasleys. "Yeah, and Ginny was too young to join the Order, she never would've, and she was too hacked off at all of us to come home after the war," he said, voice heavy with sarcasm.

It was so clear to him, he did not understand why the others could not see it. Percy was a Weasley. And if there was one thing he'd learned about Weasleys, it was that they'd get mad at you, they'd stomp away to nurse their wounds, they may even stay away for months... but they'd always come back. Percy must not have been any different. Harry said this out loud.

"Harry Potter is right," said Tulip.

"Damned if I'm getting my hopes up," said Bill.

"Well? What are we waiting for?" Ginny demanded. "We've got to at least try!"

Despite the rush, it took nearly thirty minutes before everyone but Fleur (who needed to stay with the baby) trooped into the kitchen and gathered around the small fireplace. Ginny'd had to change into something of Fleur's, and Harry thought she looked quite lovely. Bill doled out fistfuls of Floo powder.

One by one, they went into the flames, and one by one, they came out at the Leaky Cauldron. Bill'd already opened the brick wall up to Diagon Alley, and they marched through, giving old Tom a wave in passing. They moved swiftly up the cluttered street. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was dark, though a candle burned in a second story window. Harry's gut clenched.

Bill rammed on the door. "PERCY!" he shouted.

There was no answer, but Harry thought he might have heard something drop.

Bill pointed his wand and blasted the door open, apparently too impatient to wait a moment longer. Harry was on his heels as they swept through the deserted store, and into the back room where they found the stairs.

They were halfway up when Harry smelled it: a mix of sweat and vomit, as though someone had been very sick for a very long time. He had a moment of misgiving. Was Percy—

Bill shouldered the door to one of the apartments open, and stopped short. Harry bumped into him.

It was not a pretty sight.

Percy — fastidious, tidy Percy — lay on a rubber sheet. He was nearly naked, shivering, and surrounded by filth. Lit candles gave him a greenish, skeletal look. Harry looked on with horror.

"Oh God," said Ginny, beside him.

"Tried... to clean," Percy said, his breathing labored. "Hoping for company." With what appeared to be great effort, he tilted his head and jerked his chin toward a large stack of books. "I... need help. Those... books."

"We're going to help you," said Hermione. "We know all about what Moody did to you — Bill's going to break the—"

But Percy was frantically shaking his head. "Do it... the right way," he said as fiercely as he could. "The ritual. Ease it off... breaking it... will kill me."

Hermione grabbed the stack of books and sank into a corner, already reading, and apparently unmindful of the mess. Harry felt slightly superfluous as the others got to work. Bill, Tulip, and Eleison argued near the head of Percy's bed. Rowan knelt at Percy's side, and brushed his curly red hair, wet with sweat, off his forehead.

Ron, Harry, and Ginny sort of just stood there awkwardly.

Tonks sidled up. "I've decided I'm suspending the training program for one month while we get this figured out," she murmured. "I've already spoken to Kingsley. You, Ginny, and Ron are needed here, with your family."

Harry looked at her, feeling a sudden infusion of gratitude. Thank god it was the weekend; all thoughts of training Aurors had flown quite out of his head.

"Yes, I expected that," Tonks nodded sharply. "You and Ron are excellent instructors, but this is more important at the moment. A month off to fix this, and then training will resume."

"Thanks, Tonks," said Ron, heartfelt.

"Well, I think we know enough to get started," said Bill. "We'll start here, and then transfer him to Shell Cottage during a break. Eleison, Tulip, and I will need privacy for what we need to do… the ritual is pretty intense."

Harry opened his mouth to complain, but shut it at Bill's stern look. "All right," he said meekly, a step behind Ron and Ginny. Hermione merely unfolded herself from the floor, and took the stack of books with her. They wouldn't need privacy for very long. How long could rituals take, anyway?

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

A week later, Ginny was at her wit's end. Percy'd been at Shell Cottage for three days, but the three Curse-Breakers had been firm that they were not to interfere in any way. "It's terrible," she'd overheard Bill tell Fleur. "It's almost all out of him, but God. What Moody did to him…"

The four of them took turns talking incessantly, and then disappearing for hours at a time for heated, desperate sex. At least, she assumed that was why Ron and Hermione disappeared every once in a while. Otherwise, they were together constantly.

She and Harry had just returned from his cottage, when Bill emerged from Percy's room. He looked grey and old; his werewolf scar was red and ugly looking, and Ginny could see it throb. The ritual had taken it out of him. When he saw her, he nodded. "It's done," he said in a flat, exhausted voice. "And… so am I," he stumbled down the hall, toward the master bedroom. Ron and Harry darted forward, and held Bill up between them, helping him walk.

Ginny was no longer able to wait, but pushed the door open to Percy's room. Hermione was right behind her.

"Is he awake?" Ginny whispered.

Ron and Harry came into the room and shut the door. The man on the bed looked little better than he had above the joke shop. Frankincense still hung heavy in the air. Ginny's eyes burned from it. "I think he's still asleep," whispered Hermione. "Maybe we should—"

Then, to everyone's shock, Percy opened his eyes. "The first thing… I have to… the twins. They're alive. Moody… hid them. They're alive. The twins are alive."

And as though he had exhausted everything in him by getting those words out, Percy sighed a great sigh, and slipped into a deep sleep, leaving the four to stare at him.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

29 July 2000 – 30 July 2000

" _We have to find them_!" Ginny said with great emotion.

Hermione looked up. Her neck ached and her head spun, and the way Ginny was pacing like a caged lioness did not help either of these physical pains. She glanced over at Harry. His back was toward her, and his knuckles were white where he gripped the windowsill. Hermione longed to point out that they did not know for certain that the twins were alive, but she bit her tongue.

 _We don't know they're still alive!_  Hermione wanted to scream. It seemed like such an impossible thing, that Fred and George had not died three years ago. A dream, not a fact. All they had was the word of Percy, who had nearly just died, and had God only knew what done to him by Moody "for the greater good".

Unfortunately, Hermione was the only one of the four that seemed aware of this.  
"We  _will_  find them, Ginny," Harry said in a low, fervent voice.

Hermione hid her grimace and rubbed the back of her neck. It wasn't that she didn't want Fred and George to be alive; she did. But she was afraid of what would happen to the people in this room if they turned out not to be. Ginny, whose jagged edges had mostly softened since she and Harry fell in love, looked as though she might break at any moment. Her friend's face was pale and her hands shook; was Hermione the only one who saw it truly? They were so caught up in  _hope_  that Ron, Ginny, and Harry were blind to the danger.

"I don't care what it takes," Ron said as though echoing Hermione's thoughts.  
Despite herself, Hermione felt a little burst of warmth as though a miniature sun had exploded inside her. In the space of a single instant, she saw the years since she had first boarded the Hogwarts Express march by. How often had these three people proven their courage again and again? Harry, hunted by the darkest wizard in living memory, had prevailed even when he thought he must die. Ron, whose bravery had only deepened since their first year, really  _would_  do anything to find his brothers. And Ginny would do the same.

The agony of indecision gripped her.

"If I  _knew_  they were still alive," Hermione whispered under her breath.

It took a few seconds for her to realize that her chest was very tight and it was difficult for her to breathe. This claustrophobia was no less awful because she knew the cause. Hermione had known the moment Percy had mumbled "the twins are alive"; she'd just been reading that vile Dark Arts book… the one Moody had used to set up his blood curse ritual…

There was, of course, a way to find Fred and George.

The problem was that it was a method written in blood. How could she possibly trust such a thing… but how would they ever forgive her if she didn't say anything? If she didn't say anything, right now?

"And what if we do find them? How do we unscramble their brains and give them their memories back?" Harry asked. Apparently, the conversation had raged around her while Hermione had been lost in her dark thoughts.

"That's easy," Hermione said without thinking. The three turned to stare at her. As Hermione watched, Ginny grabbed Harry's arm and squeezed tightly.

"Easy?" Ron echoed.

"The potion isn't hard to come by," Hermione said. "It will restore their memories to them. Although," she added thoughtfully, "it isn't so much that their memories need to be given back to them. That spell on St. Mungo's didn't take them, you see? It just scrambled them. Rowan Khanna and I were talking about it yesterday at Shell Cottage… she's been doing a lot of work with victims of the Web. Bill says she's the best at it."

"If it just scrambled them, how come they didn't come home?" Ron demanded.

Hermione swallowed. "They wouldn't have known where home was, Ron. Judging from certain first hand accounts that I've read in the last few days, those who have had their brains scrambled are aware that they are missing something. It isn't like Obliviate or any other memory modifications. Fred and George would have known there was something wrong."

"You mean… these last three years?" Ginny's voice wavered and she cleared her throat. "These last three years, they've been banging around, knowing they were missing something but having no clue how to set things right again?"

For a horrible, aching moment, Hermione saw with awful clarity what Ginny was trying to express. Fred and George, the exuberant boys who had never lost their ability to laugh, would have been suffering. If they were still alive, their lives would be like a puzzle to them; one they had no hope of piecing together.

Ron scrubbed his face with his hands. His shoulders were hunched over, and Hermione was suddenly afraid that he might cry.  _What would I do if it were_ him _? If it was Ron that might have had his brain scrambled? I would encourage Ginny to do whatever she could for him._

"I know a way that they can be found," Hermione said softly, folding her hands and mentally bracing herself.

"What—"

"You've just now—"

It was Ginny who eyed her shrewdly. "You knew," she said accusingly, pointing her finger straight at Hermione's heart. " _You knew!_  And you just now decided to tell us?  _This is our family, Hermione!_ "

"It's only been about an hour," Hermione said, knowing this was a feeble excuse. "It's just – it's  _dark_. You're going to have to do… something awful."

"You've been letting us chase our own damn tails," Ginny said angrily.

Percy stirred on the bed, mumbling something under his breath. All four of them exchanged guilty looks. They were supposed to be letting him rest. This took some of the bite out of the room. Ron put his arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"I've thought of every way I know how to track someone. A house elf couldn't do it, because they mostly follow rumor with just a bit of magic to help. And since Fred and George don't know themselves, there's no way for a house elf to do it. And then there's the Trace," Hermione said in a fierce whisper. "Even if we could somehow break the laws of magic – which is completely impossible – they still couldn't be found. And I suppose we could  _try_  to use a bit of their hair for a focus, but the odds that working are pretty much zero unless they haven't had a haircut for three years—"

"Hermione, get to the point!" Ron said loudly. "We know all of this, or haven't you been listening to us for the hour? We know we can't use house elves, or the Trace, or using a focus to track them."

Harry spoke up. "Since you're  _that_ unwilling to talk about it, maybe you should let us figure it out—"

"Unwilling?!" Hermione shrieked, losing it. "And how willing would you be to let Ginny die, Harry?" She forged through the sudden stillness. "This magic is  _black_. The spell is found in  _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_  and you know what other spell is in there? How to make a Horcrux."

"I don't care—"

This was from Ron. Harry's anger had abruptly faded upon hearing that there was a possibility that Ginny might die.

"I care," Hermione said. "You may not care whether you live or die, Ron, but I care. And since I'm the one who might be left behind, then frankly, I think my opinion matters more."

"Hermione, I'm not going to die," Ron said in a placating tone.

To her own surprise, Hermione realized that her cheeks were wet and her vision was blurred. Not two seconds later, Ron's arms were wrapped around her, and he was whispering assurances in her ear while he stroked her back.

"The spell involves blood and cannibalism," Hermione said wetly against his chest. His grip tightened. "And the only reason it'll work is because I know your mother kept George's ear. It was torn off by a curse, of course, but I think she hoped it would grow back on."

"You're rambling," Ron said gently.

"The thing is, Ron," Hermione stepped back and wiped her eyes, "if the twins are dead, and you and Ginny try this? You're dead too."

Harry looked stricken. He licked his lips. "Why can't I do it instead of Ginny?"

Knowing exactly how he felt, Hermione said, "Because you aren't a Weasley, Harry. It has to be someone who shares blood ties with Fred and George. And it couldn't even be the kind of weird blood tie you had with Voldemort. It has to be family." She took a deep breath. "It's a complicated spell. And it's only been used once, to my knowledge, by a dark witch in the 13th century who apparently hated her family."

"Why, what happened?" Ron asked, blue eyes wide.

"It was back when women used to keep the afterbirth," Hermione explained. "And no one knows why, but she started to hate her children. They fled from her, and she found them by eating the afterbirth and tracking them. Once she caught up to them, she dragged them back to where her body was and murdered them."

"We don't want to murder them," Ginny said shakily. "Drag them back, yes… but to keep them, not to kill them."

"I know," Hermione said. "The spell isn't actually what I'm afraid of. It's the fact that if it turns out that Fred and George  _aren't_  alive, then you and Ron will die. It's as simple as that. If you track them in this way and if their lives are over, then so are you."

Hermione hoped that her words would shock them into backing down. But she knew it was futile. Ron and Ginny were Weasleys, and Hermione had long envied the bonds the siblings had. They would die for each other. Hermione watched Ron and knew that the decision had already been made. Grasping at straws, she looked at Harry.

"You four," said a weak voice from the bed, "are absolute nutters. You  _clearly_  need adult supervision."

"Percy!" Ginny said loudly.

"You're awake!" said Ron.

"Welcome back," said Harry. "You've been awake before—"

"When I told you about the twins, yes," said Percy. His voice was thready, but he sounded almost like himself. "You moved me?"

"To Shell Cottage, yes," said Harry. "The other place was… was…"

"Filthy," finished Percy. His face clenched. "Listen, the twins are alive.  _Don't_ go using dark rituals. Honestly, Hermione, I thought better of you. Not only were you not reining them in, but you were about to let them  _eat George's ear!"_

Hermione felt a horrible blush cover her face. "I couldn't think of anything else—"

"Moody bound them to a carnival," said Percy. "They'll still be there. Just have to… find out… which carnival…"

The four sat there for a while, watching as Percy fell back into the deepest of slumbers. Hermione was still horribly embarrassed. "Let's – not tell anyone about this, all right?" she said weakly. "I'll just… go try to figure out which carnival."

"Don't go playing with the Dark Arts to do it," joked Ron.

"Too soon," hissed Ginny.

Hermione left the room with as much dignity as she possessed.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry took the parchment Hermione gave him, feeling a great sense of urgency spread from his stomach outward. This was it. This was the moment they could knit the Weasleys back together... that family that had done so much for him. Their sacrifices would be lessened, their tears dried... if only they could find the twins.

They'd decided not to say anything to any of the others, they thought it best to go and have a look at these three most likely carnivals, and if they were unsuccessful, they'd explore their other options.

Harry unfolded the parchment, found the current address, and Apparated away immediately. He found an old carnival with battered trailers and a few animal pens on a cliff outside a seaside village. Everything was quiet. Everyone was sound asleep. "Homenum revelio," Harry whispered. There were ten people here, and Harry found all of them. Two were older, a couple who might be the owners, most were young and skinny. None were the twins. Still, Harry walked around, just to be sure... the twins might have wandered away to the village...

But once he'd satisfied himself that he'd looked everywhere and thought of everything, he Apparated back to Hermione. Ginny was already back. Harry took her hand.

"Where's Ron?" He asked.

Hermione shook her head. "He's still looking."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance. It had been quite some time since they left... "Why don't we check on him? We can Apparate out there..."

Hermione nodded and grabbed her cloak and then Ginny's hand. Harry read the address, focused his mind upon it, and Apparated them to the edge of a forest far to the north.

"It's freezing," Hermione breathed. She drew her wand and produced a wreath of bluebell flames.

Harry nodded his thanks. This was a rather larger carnival than the one he'd searched. They ghosted through it, looking for signs of Ron.

Harry heard him before he could see him, and he stopped so suddenly that Ginny nearly fell over. He had seen Ron in every mood in the book, but he had never heard his best mate cry... not really...

He forced himself onward.

Ron was kneeling on the ground outside an intricately painted caravan, head in his hands, sobbing as though his heart would break. Harry was torn; he wanted to go offer... some sort of comfort, but he also felt that Ron would want privacy, would not want Harry to hear him crying so desperately...

Hermione ran toward him and threw her arms around him. He barely noticed her, but continued to sob. Harry looked around... surely something had happened to make Ron cry like that? But all was quiet. Everything was—

"Oi!" said a familiar voice.

Harry turned his head.

"Do you know this nutter?" asked George.


	20. Homecoming

Fred and George had poked their heads out of the little yellow caravan. Harry's eyes bulged. Time seemed to slow. He forgot he was cold.

"He came and shined a light through my window, and then started crying," said Fred. He sounded bewildered.

Ginny moaned, and sank to the ground. She was quieter about it, but she sobbed just as hard as Ron. Harry tried to hold it together, for them, but all he could do was stare at them, his own eyes growing wet.

"Oh God, it's them," sobbed Ginny. Her entire body shook with emotion. Harry felt like joining her — could not quite believe the evidence of his own eyes—

"They're all nutters," said George.

"Ginny — Ginny, it's okay," whispered Harry. They had to do something, quickly. They needed to—

"Did you say Ginny?" Fred asked in a sharp voice.

Ginny lifted her head. "It's me, I'm Ginny. Do you remember—"

"We've been getting your letters!" George said with an air of great excitement.

Ron lurched to his feet, bringing Hermione with him.

"You've been getting my letters," Ginny said in a high, thin voice. "Then you must know I'm your sister. This is Ron, our brother. Hermione, his fiancé."

"And that must be Harry," Fred pointed at him, leering.

Harry did not let his discomfort show on his face. "That's right. And we're here to take you home—"

"Or to St. Mungo's—"

"NOT ST. MUNGO'S!" The twins roared as one.

"Shell Cottage, then?" Ron asked. Harry eyed him; he still looked like a mess. He was shaky, and his face was all puffy.

Harry nodded. "Can you, er, make it there?"

Ron jerked his head. "Yeah, I just..." But he could not seem to finish. Harry put his hand on his shoulder.

"I understand," said Harry.

"Are we giving Bill a warning?" Hermione murmured.

"Nah," said Ron and Ginny together.

"It'll be good for him," grinned Ginny. "He needs to get better at surprises."

Harry felt a momentary pang of sympathy for Bill, but shoved it aside. Ginny moved over to the twins, and began speaking to them quietly. Harry went into the little caravan; it was surprisingly tidy, despite the two unmade beds, one at each end. There was a thick stack of parchment on the table — Ginny's letters, Harry supposed — but very little else in the way of personal belongings. He thumbed through them, smiling a little, and then choked. No wonder Fred had leered! Ginny hadn't shied away from describing anything! His eyes popped, and he removed his glasses, rubbing them on his robes. She had quite a way with words...

Muttering to himself, Harry shoved the letters into his robes, and left the caravan. "Is this everything?" He asked the twins. "Is all your stuff in there?"

"Er — yeah," said George.

Harry waved his wand, whispered the charm, and the caravan shrunk down in size. Harry grabbed it, and put it in his pockets.

The twins were gaping at him.

"She told you I was good with my wand," Harry said smugly. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny turn bright red. "Among many other things," he said. "Many, many other things."

Ginny spluttered. "Oh God!"

Harry shook his head. They'd figure out what to do about that later... for now, they needed to get the twins home and healed. They could worry about how much they knew about their sex life later...

Harry took Fred firmly by the elbow. "Meet you there," he said to Ginny, as she grabbed George.

They Disapparated with a pop. Fred fought him, and Harry had to pull with all his strength, keeping them together. It seemed a long time in the tube before they emerged beside Shell Cottage.

"What was that?" Fred moaned.

"Apparition," Harry said sympathetically.

The lights flickered on, and Bill stamped out in his dressing robe. "Where the hell have you four been — do you have ANY IDEA WHAT—"

Harry was beaming at him. He stepped aside with a flourish, and shoved Fred forward.

"Oh my God," said Bill.

"George is here, too," Ginny said, pushing George forward. "They don't remember anything — they were caught in the Web at St. Mungo's."

Bill just stared.

"Percy mentioned it when he woke up while you were at Gringotts," said Harry. "It was the first thing he said: 'The twins are alive'. Then there was something about a carnival... Hermione went and found out — somehow, which carnivals..." his voice trailed away.

Bill just stared.

"Hermione knew immediately how to look," Ron popped out of his hiding place, dragging Hermione with him.

"I was able to search city records for any carnivals that were in town the week they died — I mean, the week they disappeared, and we went searching... Ron found them..."

Bill swallowed. Hard.

"Oi," said Fred. He looked rather uncertain in the dim light. "They mentioned they could... unscramble us?" There was rather more vulnerability in his voice than Harry was accustomed to hearing. Both twins were shuffling their feet, and looked rather ill, and confused. Harry's stomach convulsed.

"Yes," said Bill. "Yes, we can unscramble you." He did not make any gesture toward his two long lost brothers. Instead, he moved backward, making soothing gestures. "We will help the two of you — sort out —"

But he seemed unable to continue. Harry had seen Bill ride valiantly in the effort to help Percy. It was only now, faced with two brothers he long thought dead, that Bill lost his composure.

Luckily, Fleur was there.

"ROWAN KHANNA!" she shouted. "WE NEED YOU!"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

July 30, 2000

The night sky was cold enough that it felt like a constant slap to Harry's face. It was nearly midnight, but they were only just now arriving at their destination. Then they had to turn around and go all the way back home.

"Why'd it have to be us?" Harry grumbled, his teeth chattering. He and Ron were on brooms, and in harnesses that were attached to the twins's caravan. They were pulling it through the night sky all the way to Romania.

It had seemed like a fun idea at the time, until Harry realized he and Ron were expected to be the human steeds. "But Percy needs the bed, he needs to stay comfortable," said Fred, sounding oh-so-reasonable for someone who had not known his own name five hours previously. "Yeah, and Fred and I are still a bit shaky, we just came back from the dead, you know..." Bill'd just smiled his Cheshire's grin, and Harry knew he'd lost.

"You're pulling it because you're sleeping with Ginny, and they have to punish you somehow," said Ron. "And I'm pulling it because I'm the youngest."

This was not the first time they had had this conversation. Luckily, he and Ron had had the presence of mind to lighten the caravan (and the people inside) before taking off.

In all honesty, Harry did not mind the chance to speed through the air at top speeds. It gave him a chance to take a break from the events of the last week or so. It had been a trying time: learning about the blood curse, rescuing Percy, letting the sort of intimidating Slytherin Curse-Breakers take the lead, finding out about the twins, FINDING the twins... it was a little much, even for him. So Harry allowed himself to relish the quiet.

"Why'd it have to be us?" Ron muttered.

"Because you're the youngest brother," Harry said patiently. "And I'm sleeping with Ginny. They've got to punish me somehow."

It was another hour before they landed just outside the dragon enclosure, a vast space protected by an impermeable shield. Harry'd only been here once before. Now that they'd landed, he could hear the raucous laughter coming from the inside. Despite the fact his face was frozen, Harry grinned. The twins... alive again...

They came out the door, and Harry's grin sagged into a look of disbelief. The twins had performed a series of transfigurations to make themselves look like Inferi. Harry took an involuntary step backward as they staggered toward him, groaning.

"You two are sick," Ron said.

With horror, Harry realized what the twins were planning to do. He looked at Bill, accusation burning in his eyes. "They're going to make Charlie think they're Inferi?!"

"Yes," Ginny stepped out of the caravan. "We're hoping they get it out of their system with Charlie, and won't do it to Mum and Dad." She walked forward and kissed Harry.

Bill was summoning his Patronus. "Charlie! We're at the gate to the dragon enclosure! Something terrible has happened!"

Harry shook his head, unable to believe Bill was playing along.

Charlie arrived within moments, wearing leather robes that had been cut from knee to shoulder. He also wore heavy vambraces, had scorch marks on his face, and looked rather... medieval. "What is it? I'm kind of—"

But then the twins started moaning and staggering toward him.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Charlie shouted.

"Draaaaagons," moaned George.

"Chaaaaaaarliiiiie loooooooves draaaaagons," Fred groaned, and started to laugh. "Oh Charlie. Oh Charlie. You should see your face."

Charlie just gaped at them. Then — he flung off his vambraces, and flung himself at his brothers. Harry could not tell if he was hitting them or hugging them, or a bit of both.

"What in the actual fuck, though," Charlie said finally. "What the fuck."

"Get in the caravan," Ginny gestured. "We'll explain on the way."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

July 31, 2000

Ginny stared up at the crooked little house. She winced in remembered pain, rubbed her shoulder, and fidgeted nervously. This was it. This was the moment. She was so excited and nervous she felt ill.

"Did you still want to go first?" asked Percy. He had just finished removing a charm, and Ginny's eyes widened when she remembered — really remembered — what he held in his hand.

"The clock!" Tears sprang to her eyes for what Ginny knew would not be the last time today.

"It's time for Mother to have it back," said Percy. They were both lingering in the lane, stalling. Ginny's heart was so full...

She took several deep breaths, squared her shoulders, and forced herself to march to the back door of the Burrow. Ginny very nearly knocked on the door of her childhood home, but stopped herself at the last instant. "Mum? Dad?"

Bill, Charlie, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were already in the sitting room. Her mother came around the corner, drying her hands on a tea towel, and staring at Ginny with stunned disbelief.

"Ginny?!" said her mum. "Arthur! ARTHUR! Ginny's home!"

Ginny walked forward and wrapped her arms around her mother. She closed her eyes for a second, leaning her head on her mother's shoulder. After a second, her mum's arms came around her, squeezing tightly.

Her father clattered down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Ginny took a deep breath, and pulled herself out of her mother's arms. If she stayed there, she'd just start crying and ruining everything. "Can I talk to you? I have some things to tell you."

"Of course, Ginny," her father said gently.

Ginny led them to the sitting room, where everyone else waited with varying degrees of patience.

"Charlie! Did you see who is here?"

"I saw him this morning, Mum," said Ginny. She gestured toward a loveseat, and when they sat, she knelt at their feet. "We all went to get him... because we have some things to tell you, and the whole family needs to be here for it."

She stole a glance at Harry. He smiled at her.

"It all started when I turned seventeen, and joined the Order of the Phoenix..."

Ginny told them everything again. She poured out her whole story to her parents, patiently, lovingly. "But the thing is... the thing is... I've already told you this before. You were there when Bill broke the curse off of me..."

"What? No," said her father, shaking his head. "That's impossible... how could we possibly forget something like that?"

"Moody's little charm was no charm at all, but a blood curse," said Bill. "Moody didn't want anyone distracted by Ginny being in the Order... did not want us to lose focus. So he cursed us to ignore what was in front of our faces, cursed us not to look for Ginny..."

Molly covered her face with her hands.

"I was so... hurt that none of you tried to find me," Ginny admitted. Her voice choked up. "It was so painful being stuck in that bed, trapped by Moody's curse, and you — my family — you never came looking for me. But I should have known something had happened... it wasn't like you to just... accept that I'd gone off to South America. Mum, Dad... if you hadn't been cursed, you would have found me. I'm sorry I didn't question it. It wasn't until Tonks said you'd forgotten what happened at Hermione's fake birthday party... I'm so sorry."

"Oh, Ginny," said Molly. Tears were dripping down her face.

"We would have looked for you," said Arthur, reaching out to stroke her hair. "It's inconceivable that we didn't. How could we not look for you?"

"The curse," Bill supplied. "It's been broken."

"Moody cursed us not to be there for our daughter when she needed us," Arthur said in a hard, flat voice.

"It gets worse," said Ron.

"How could it — ah. It was a blood curse. Who was the focus?"

Ginny rubbed her trembling fingers on her robes. Her turn was nearly over...

"It was me," said Percy. He stood in the arch, looking awkward and terrified and hopeful all at once. Her mother gave a little scream of surprise.

Her father's mouth fell open. "Puh—"

"I joined the Order just before Ginny did, when Moody was growing ever more paranoid," said Percy. "He said — he said it was the way for me to help you, help fight against Voldemort."

"Oh Percy," her mother whispered.

This was a reunion that had been a longer time coming than Ginny's. Warmth curled in her stomach as she watched first her mother, then her father hug their wayward son. Ginny sat on Harry's lap, and he wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her shoulder.

The best was still yet to come.

"I brought you a present," said Percy, after he had finished explaining how the blood curse worked, how ill it had made him, and how tirelessly Bill and his Slytherin friends had worked to save him and break the curse forever. His voice was husky at the end.

He held out the clock to his mother. Molly's hands were shaking so badly, she nearly dropped it. "My clock..." she whispered. "You came one night and took it... Moody wanted it?" she ran her fingers lovingly over the hands.

Ginny sent the agreed upon signal to the twins.

"Moody didn't want you figuring out what Ginny was up to," Percy confirmed. "Mum. Look at the twins's hands."

They all looked, and in that second, the hands switched from "away" to "traveling" and finally landed on "Home".

"What?" Molly said blankly. "How can..."

Ginny was crying now, tears dripping down her cheeks. Hermione had her head in her hands. Everyone was crying, even Bill, who had tried to be so stoic these last few days.

"What, are you lot having a party without us?" asked Fred.

Ginny watched as her father's face crumpled, nodded several times, and then rushed forward to hug his twins. Then her mother joined, and all four of them held each other for long minutes.

"I... can't," sobbed Molly. "I'm so happy it hurts. It hurts."

Ginny looked around at her family, unable to believe how broken they'd been a month ago, and now... everything had been put back together. Her family had been put back together.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

July 31, 2000

The excited atmosphere had not changed in the slightest, and had gotten even more intense as the afternoon waned. The twins were in their element, as the two bright centers of attention; as they should be. It was not every day people came back from the dead. Harry knew this, as he had done that before. At some point, Ron and Hermione left and returned with what looked like everything in the kitchen at the Leaky Cauldron.

It was when dusk was settling that the first owl arrived. Harry'd just finished helping set three tables together, and Ron and Hermione were putting out the food. Harry was watching everyone, taking in the moment, when something dropped on his head. A light, somewhat lumpy, package fell to his feet. Harry picked it up, bemused.

It sang when he picked it up. "Happy birthday, Harry!"

"Blimey," said Harry. "I forgot!"

"I didn't," teased Ginny, bumping him with her hip. She set down a platter of silverware, and squeezed him tight around the middle.

"You got me this?" said Harry.

"Oh no, not me," said Ginny. "I sent an owl to the Prophet and Witch Weekly. I think they ran a special edition."

Harry looked at her, exasperated.

She feigned an innocent look, one that did not fool Harry for an instant. "You said you wanted them."

Three more packages pelted him. He ripped them all open and found exactly what he suspected: socks. Five more arrived, then ten, and suddenly there were hundreds of packages. The Weasleys had forgotten about dinner, and were gleefully ripping open envelopes. They were, Harry noted approvingly, also helping themselves to his presents.

"Look!" crowed Ginny. She wiggled her toes at him. The socks she'd pulled on were knee high, striped, and reminded Harry of a Muggle movie he'd watched long ago.

"Those are perfect for you," Harry told his wicked little witch.

It eventually got old, and Ron got hungry. He put up an Imperturbable Shield so that the packages and packages of socks fell harmlessly to the sides. Molly and Arthur did not let the twins stray too far, Arthur especially had a look on his face that suggested the twins may have to live at the Burrow for the next several days, or months, or perhaps even years.

The pile of socks outside the shield grew steadily higher. Harry ate with the rest of the family, recounted the last several years for the twins, and most of all, watched Ginny. Her face was alight with happiness.

She was still beaming later — much later — when they'd finally retired to her little room that overlooked the Quidditch pitch. They nestled together like spoons, and Harry was rather lazily rocking back and forth into her. She was warm and wet and had her hand down where their two bodies were joined. Ginny had got quite brilliant at playing. But Harry still moved slowly... back and forth... not moving with purpose so much as just fun.

"So," said Ginny, a few minutes later. They were both sweatier, and panting for breath. Harry's hand squeezed her breast in time with his thrusts, and her busy little fingers had left off playing with his balls, and were now rubbing her clit.

"So," said Harry.

"What would you see if you looked in the Mirror of Erised right now?" she asked.

Harry growled. He was not doing his job right if she could speak so coherently. He rolled them over until he was on top of her, and pressed her into the mattress. "Besides doing this forever?" he asked. She didn't answer with anything more than a whimper.

Ginny came first, but Harry was (quite literally) right behind her. He made three more mighty thrusts, and came. And came. And came. It was absolutely the best sex of his life, and Ginny's continued writhing and gasps told Harry she probably felt the same way.

"I don't think I'd see anything different," Harry confessed minutes later. Their bodies were still pressed against each other, but Ginny was now tucked under his arm.

"In the Mirror?" Ginny asked sleepily.

"In the Mirror. I think I have everything I ever wanted. And more."

"Me too, Harry. Me too."

THE (ACTUAL) END

(Seriously, it would have been a dick move for me to end it where I pretended to a few weeks ago! LOL)


End file.
